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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=384075" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>After Bank Holiday</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=384075" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Now deserted are the roads<br>Where awhile the lovers went;<br>Vacant are the field-abodes<br>Where a vivid hour they spent:<br>Solemn dark<br>Broods again in lane and park. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=384075" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">'Tis no matter where are gone<br>Those warm lives---to halls, maybe,<br>Festive, or to lodgings lone:<br>Of the land their tenancy<br>Now is o'er;<br>Earth to earth belongs once more. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=384075" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Gone are they as hourly goes<br>From the sombre fields of space<br>Our world, with its little glows—<br>Passion's ship that has no place,<br>Leaves no track,<br>On time's endless ocean black.</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=Elizabeth+Daryush">Elizabeth Daryush</a></strong></div>

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