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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=360670" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sonnet LXXXIX: The Trees of the Garden</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=360670" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Ye who have passed Death's haggard hills; and ye<br>Whom trees that knew your sires shall cease to know<br>And still stand silent:—is it all a show,—<br>A wisp that laughs upon the wall?—decree<br>Of some inexorable supremacy<br>Which ever, as man strains his blind surmise<br>From depth to ominous depth, looks past his eyes,<br>Sphinx-faced with unabashèd augury?<br>Nay, rather question the Earth's self. Invoke<br>The storm-felled forest-trees moss-grown to-day<br>Whose roots are hillocks where the children play;<br>Or ask the silver sapling 'neath what yoke<br>Those stars, his spray-crown's clustering gems, shall wage<br>Their journey still when his boughs shrink with age.</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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