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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=506581" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Birth And Death.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=506581" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I who have known thee, Birth, must know Death too:<br>As old, old men their children's children fold<br>In their gaunt arms, and though their blood be cold<br>Feel their own youth burn in them as they view<br>The features that were theirs — each sign so true<br>To their own breath and blood, 'tis as retold<br>Their very youth was, when they are so old,<br>By those who nothing of their childhood knew.<br>So even Death but a new birth may be,<br>And in some other star beyond to-day,<br>When we have put the use of Earth away,<br>E'en like those old men's children's children we<br>May see ourselves rise from our own decay,<br>The very offspring of our verity.</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=Robert+Crawford">Robert Crawford</a></strong></div>

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