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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355960" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>After Death</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355960" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The curtains were half drawn, the floor was swept<br>And strewn with rushes, rosemary and may<br>Lay thick upon the bed on which I lay,<br>Where through the lattice ivy-shadows crept.<br>He leaned above me, thinking that I slept<br>And could not hear him; but I heard him say:<br>'Poor child, poor child:' and as he turned away<br>Came a deep silence, and I knew he wept.<br>He did not touch the shroud, or raise the fold<br>That hid my face, or take my hand in his,<br>Or ruffle the smooth pillows for my head:<br>He did not love me living; but once dead<br>He pitied me; and very sweet it is<br>To know he still is warm though I am cold.</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=Christina+Georgina+Rossetti">Christina Georgina Rossetti</a></strong></div>

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