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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=454905" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To Alcithoë</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=454905" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">IN your dim Greece of old, Alcithoë,<br>Death like a lover sought and crowned you young,<br>Between the olive orchards and the sea.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=454905" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">When they had twined your myrtle-buds, and hung<br>The stately cypress at your door, they said,<br>'Alcithoë is dead,<br>Before whose feet the flaming crocus sprung,<br>For whom the red rose opened ere the prime;<br>Those the gods love are taken before their time.'– </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=454905" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Ah! why did no one, watching you alone,<br>Snare your dead beauty in undying stone ?<br>The gold hair bound beneath its golden band,<br>The milk-white poppies closed within your hand;<br>That the harsh world a little space might keep<br>The last, still, exquisite vision of your sleep.</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=Marjorie+Lowry+Christie+Pickthall">Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall</a></strong></div>

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