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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=354885" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Regret</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=354885" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">There's a regret that from my bosom aye <br> Wrings forth a dirgy sweetness, like a rain <br> Of deathward love; that ever in my brain <br>Uttereth such tones as in some foregone way <br>Seem gathered from the harmonies that start <br> Into the dayspring, when some rarest view <br> Unveileth its Tempèan grace anew <br>To meet the sun—the great world’s fervent heart. <br>’Tis that, though living in his tuneful day, <br> My boyhood might not see the gentle smile, <br>Nor hear the voice of Shelley; that away <br> His soul had journeyed, ere I might beguile <br>In my warm youth, by some fraternal lay, <br> One thought of his towards this may native isle. <br></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=Charles+Harpur">Charles Harpur</a></strong></div>

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