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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=392562" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Upon The Eve of All Hallows {Sonnet For The Saints}</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=392562" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Stories from th' grave, speak their tales on wind's of faith<br>Methodically, we lay our wreaths 'an sweet moon orchids<br>Standing o'er th' steel-grey rock, with conscientious hope<br>Our whispered prayer somehow touch th' soul we beckon</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=392562" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Death's voice....cannot be qualified 'less you've been there<br>Yet, i've heard premonitions voice.....choirs with credence<br>Of Sunday verse sung by men....in black with collars white<br>Evoking th' fear of God- for when our winds of Death blow</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=392562" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Stories from th' grave......shed no light upon those sleeping<br>Still, we follow old traditions, in hopes to find new answers<br>We'll speak to th' steel-grey stone, upon soft, unleveled soil<br>In hopes all these stories dark, be blest in God-Kissed Light</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=392562" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Still many questions live, in deepest sleep, with our Saint's<br>Perhaps somewher' beyond all this lay th' hallowed answers</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=Frank+James+Ryan+Jr.">Frank James Ryan Jr.</a></strong></div>