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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=341417" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Love Of Life</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=341417" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Why love life more, the less of it be left,<br>And what is left be little but the lees,<br>And Time's subsiding passions have bereft<br>One's taste for pleasure, and one's power to please?<br>Is it not better, like the waning year,<br>Without lament resignedly to fade,<br>Since by enduring ordinance all things here<br>Are in their season shattered and decayed?<br>If you have shared in April's freshet song,<br>And Summer can without reproach recall,<br>Yearn not Autumnal harvest to prolong,<br>Nor shrink from Winter that awaits us all;<br>But, lightened of the load of earthly ties,<br>Pursue with homeward step your journey to the skies.</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=Alfred+Austin">Alfred Austin</a></strong></div>

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