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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=117956" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Instinct of Hope</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=117956" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Is there another world for this frail dust<br>To warm with life and be itself again?<br>Something about me daily speaks there must,<br>And why should instinct nourish hopes in vain?<br>'Tis nature's prophesy that such will be,<br>And everything seems struggling to explain<br>The close sealed volume of its mystery.<br>Time wandering onward keeps its usual pace<br>As seeming anxious of eternity,<br>To meet that calm and find a resting place.<br>E'en the small violet feels a future power<br>And waits each year renewing blooms to bring,<br>And surely man is no inferior flower<br>To die unworthy of a second spring?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=John+Clare">John Clare</a></strong></div>

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