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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=481212" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Olive Garden</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=481212" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">(Rainer Maria Rilke)</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=481212" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">He went up under the gray leaves<br>All gray and lost in the olive lands<br>And laid his forehead, gray with dust,<br>Deep in the dustiness of his hot hands.<br>After everything this. And this was the end.<br>-- Now I must go, as I am going blind.<br>And why is it Thy will that I must say<br>Thou art, when I myself no more can find Thee.<br>I find Thee no more. Not in me, no.<br>Not in others. Not in this stone,<br>I find Thee no more. I am alone.<br>I am alone with all men's sorrow --<br>All that, through Thee, I thought to lighten,<br>Thou who art not, O nameless shame ...<br>Men said, later: an angel came.<br>Why an angel? Alas, there came the night,<br>And leafed through the trees, indifferently.<br>The disciples moved a little in their dreams.<br>Why an angel? Alas, there came the night.<br>The night that came was no uncommon night:<br>So hundreds of nights go by.<br>There dogs sleep; there stones lie,<br>Alas a sorrowful, alas any night<br>That waits till once more it is morning.<br>For then beseech: the angels do not come,<br>Never do nights grow great around them.<br>Who lose themselves, all things let go;<br>They are renounced by their own fathers<br>And shut from their own mothers' hearts.</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=Randall+Jarrell">Randall Jarrell</a></strong></div>