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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=529939" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Come, Rest in this Bosom</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=529939" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer, <br>Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here; <br>Here still is the smile, that no cloud can o'ercast, <br>And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=529939" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Oh! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same <br>Through joy and through torment, through glory and shame? <br>I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in that heart? <br>I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=529939" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Thou hast call'd me thy angel in moments of bliss, <br>And thy Angel I'd be, 'mid the horrors of this, -- <br>Through the furnace, unshrinking, thy steps to pursue, <br>And shield thee, and save thee, -- or perish there too!</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+Moore">Thomas Moore</a></strong></div>

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