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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=395884" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Meeting</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=395884" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">MY Damon was the first to wake <br>   The gentle flame that cannot die; <br>My Damon is the last to take <br>   The faithful bosom's softest sigh: <br>The life between is nothing worth, <br>   O cast it from thy thought away! <br>Think of the day that gave it birth, <br>   And this its sweet returning day. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=395884" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Buried be all that has been done, <br>   Or say that naught is done amiss; <br>For who the dangerous path can shun <br>   In such bewildering world as this? <br>But love can every fault forgive, <br>   Or with a tender look reprove; <br>And now let naught in memory live <br>   But that we meet, and that we love.</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=George+Crabbe">George Crabbe</a></strong></div>

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