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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473273" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>My Voice</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473273" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">WITHIN this restless, hurried, modern world<br> We took our hearts' full pleasure--You and I,<br> And now the white sails of our ship are furled,<br> And spent the lading of our argosy.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473273" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> Wherefore my cheeks before their time are wan,<br> For very weeping is my gladness fled,<br> Sorrow hath paled my lip's vermilion,<br> And Ruin draws the curtains of my bed.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473273" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> But all this crowded life has been to thee<br> No more than lyre, or lute, or subtle spell<br> Of viols, or the music of the sea<br> That sleeps, a mimic echo, in the shell.</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=Oscar+Wilde">Oscar Wilde</a></strong></div>

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