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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355350" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Last Rose Of Summer</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355350" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">That strain again? It seems to tell<br>Of something like a joy departed;<br>I love its mourning accents well,<br>Like voice of one, ah! broken-hearted.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355350" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">That note that pensive dies away,<br>And can each answering thrill awaken,<br>It sadly, wildly, seems to say,<br>Thy meek heart mourns its truth forsaken.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355350" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Or there was one who never more<br>Shall meet thee with the looks of gladness,<br>When all of happier life was o'er,<br>When first began thy night of sadness.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355350" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Sweet mourner, cease that melting strain,<br>Too well it suits the grave's cold slumbers;<br>Too well the heart that loved in vain<br>Breathes, lives, and weeps in those wild numbers.</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+Wolfe">Charles Wolfe</a></strong></div>

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