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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=366054" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Autumn</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=366054" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">When, with low moanings on the distant shore, <br>   Like vain regrets, the ocean-tide is rolled: <br>   When, thro' bare boughs, the tale of death is told <br>By breezes sighing, "Summer days are o'er"; <br>When all the days we loved -- the days of yore -- <br>   Lie in their vaults, dead Kings who ruled of old -- <br>   Unrobed and sceptreless, uncrowned with gold, <br>Conquered, and to be crowned, ah! never more. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=366054" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">If o'er the bare fields, cold and whitening <br>   With the first snow-flakes, I should see thy form, <br>And meet and kiss thee, that were enough of Spring; <br>   Enough of sunshine, could I feel the warm <br>Glad beating of thy heart 'neath Winter's wing, <br>   Tho' Earth were full of whirlwind and of storm.</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+MacDonald+Ross">David MacDonald Ross</a></strong></div>

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