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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=447185" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Consumptive</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=447185" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The stars, the fields, will know him never-<br>more;<br>his friends, his trees, the restless swerving sea.<br>‘Three days to live,’ they said – the kind gave four.<br>They glide about his bed silently.<br>‘Twas not the lead of battle nor the shell<br>the spitting of Maxim’s basiliskine breath –<br>‘Twas through the falseness of the winds he fell;<br>the snow’s mock-warmth – a chill. His humble <br>death<br>will ne’er be sung in elegy and rhyme,<br>his passage bloodless was, unstained and still.<br>It brought no stir; and smiling all the time<br>He waved his last farewell behind the Hill.<br>I saw him die with my half-closed eyes,<br>And closing them I thought of Paradise.</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=Leon+Gellert">Leon Gellert</a></strong></div>

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