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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=477816" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sonnet On An Old Book With Uncut Leaves</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=477816" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Emblem of blasted hope and lost desire,<br>No finger ever traced thy yellow page<br>Save Time's. Thou hast not wrought to noble rage<br>The hearts thou wouldst have stirred. Not any fire<br>Save sad flames set to light a funeral pyre<br>Dost thou suggest. Nay,--impotent in age,<br>Unsought, thou holdst a corner of the stage<br>And ceasest even dumbly to aspire.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=477816" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">How different was the thought of him that writ.<br>What promised he to love of ease and wealth,<br>When men should read and kindle at his wit.<br>But here decay eats up the book by stealth,<br>While it, like some old maiden, solemnly,<br>Hugs its incongruous virginity!</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=Paul+Laurence+Dunbar">Paul Laurence Dunbar</a></strong></div>

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