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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=384490" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Mockery</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=384490" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Why do we grudge our sweets so to the living<br>Who, God knows, find at best too much of gall,<br>And then with generous, open hands kneel, giving<br>Unto the dead our all?<br>Why do we pierce the warm hearts, sin or sorrow,<br>With idle jests, or scorn, or cruel sneers,<br>And when it cannot know, on some to-morrow,<br>Speak of its woe through tears?<br>What do the dead care, for the tender token—<br>The love, the praise, the floral offerings?<br>But palpitating, living hearts are broken<br>For want of just these things.</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=Ella+Wheeler+Wilcox">Ella Wheeler Wilcox</a></strong></div>

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