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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=512836" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sonnet XX.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=512836" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The piteous sobs that choke the Virgin's breath<br>For him, the fair betrothed Youth, who les<br>Cold in the narrow dwelling, or the cries<br>With which a Mother wails her Darling's death,<br>These from our Nature's common impulse spring<br>Unblamed, unpraised; but o'er the piled earth,<br>Which hides the sheeted corse of gray-haired Worth,<br>If droops the soaring Youth with slackened wing;<br>If he recall in saddest minstrelsy <br>Each tenderness bestowed, each truth impressed;<br>Such Grief is Reason, Virtue, Piety!<br>And from the Almighty Father shall descend<br>Comforts on his late Evening, whose young breast<br>Mourns with no transient love the aged friend.</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=Samuel+Taylor+Coleridge">Samuel Taylor Coleridge</a></strong></div>

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