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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=360667" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sonnet LXXXI: Memorial Thresholds</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=360667" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">What place so strange,—though unrevealèd snow<br>With unimaginable fires arise<br>At the earth's end,—what passion of surprise<br>Like frost-bound fire-girt scenes of long ago?<br>Lo! this is none but I this hour; and lo!<br>This is the very place which to mine eyes<br>Those mortal hours in vain immortalize,<br>'Mid hurrying crowds, with what alone I know.<br>City, of thine a single simple door,<br>By some new Power reduplicate, must be<br>Even yet my life-porch in eternity,<br>Even with one presence filled, as once of yore:<br>Or mocking winds whirl round a chaff-strown floor<br>Thee and thy years and these my words and me.</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=Dante+Gabriel+Rossetti">Dante Gabriel Rossetti</a></strong></div>

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