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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=478244" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>On An Icicle That Clung To The Grass Of A Grave</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=478244" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I.<br>Oh! take the pure gem to where southerly breezes,<br>Waft repose to some bosom as faithful as fair,<br>In which the warm current of love never freezes,<br>As it rises unmingled with selfishness there,<br>Which, untainted by pride, unpolluted by care,<br>Might dissolve the dim icedrop, might bid it arise,<br>Too pure for these regions, to gleam in the skies.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=478244" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">II.<br>Or where the stern warrior, his country defending,<br>Dares fearless the dark-rolling battle to pour,<br>Or o'er the fell corpse of a dread tyrant bending,<br>Where patriotism red with his guilt-reeking gore<br>Plants Liberty's flag on the slave-peopled shore,<br>With victory's cry, with the shout of the free,<br>Let it fly, taintless Spirit, to mingle with thee.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=478244" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">III.<br>For I found the pure gem, when the daybeam returning,<br>Ineffectual gleams on the snow-covered plain,<br>When to others the wished-for arrival of morning<br>Brings relief to long visions of soul-racking pain;<br>But regret is an insult—to grieve is in vain:<br>And why should we grieve that a spirit so fair <br>Seeks Heaven to mix with its own kindred there?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=478244" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">IV.<br>But still 'twas some Spirit of kindness descending<br>To share in the load of mortality's woe,<br>Who over thy lowly-built sepulchre bending<br>Bade sympathy's tenderest teardrop to flow.<br>Not for THEE soft compassion celestials did know,<br>But if ANGELS can weep, sure MAN may repine,<br>May weep in mute grief o'er thy low-laid shrine.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=478244" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">V.<br>And did I then say, for the altar of glory,<br>That the earliest, the loveliest of flowers I'd entwine,<br>Though with millions of blood-reeking victims 'twas gory,<br>Though the tears of the widow polluted its shrine,<br>Though around it the orphans, the fatherless pine?<br>Oh! Fame, all thy glories I'd yield for a tear<br>To shed on the grave of a heart so sincere.</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=Percy+Bysshe+Shelley">Percy Bysshe Shelley</a></strong></div>