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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=529753" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Death</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=529753" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">It is not death, that sometime in a sigh <br>This eloquent breath shall take its speechless flight; <br>That sometime these bright stars, that now reply <br>In sunlight to the sun, shall set in night; <br>That this warm conscious flesh shall perish quite, <br>And all life's ruddy springs forget to flow; <br>That thoughts shall cease, and the immortal sprite <br>Be lapped in alien clay and laid below; <br>It is not death to know this,--but to know <br>That pious thoughts, which visit at new graves <br>In tender pilgrimage, will cease to go <br>So duly and so oft,--and when grass waves <br>Over the past-away, there may be then <br>No resurrection in the minds of men.</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=Thomas+Hood">Thomas Hood</a></strong></div>

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