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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=364091" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Giorno dei Morti</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=364091" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Along the avenue of cypresses, <br>All in their scarlet cloaks and surplices <br>Of linen, go the chanting choristers, <br>The priests in gold and black, the villagers. . . </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=364091" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And all along the path to the cemetery <br>The round dark heads of men crowd silently, <br>And black-scarved faces of womenfolk, wistfully <br>Watch at the banner of death, and the mystery. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=364091" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And at the foot of a grave a father stands <br>With sunken head, and forgotten, folded hands; <br>And at the foot of a grave a mother kneels <br>With pale shut face, nor either hears nor feels </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=364091" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The coming of the chanting choristers <br>Between the avenue of cypresses, <br>The silence of the many villagers, <br>The candle-flames beside the surplices.</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=David+Herbert+Lawrence">David Herbert Lawrence</a></strong></div>

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