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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536272" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Kind Ghosts</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536272" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">She sleeps on soft, last breaths; but no ghost looms<br>Out of the stillness of her palace wall,<br>Her wall of boys on boys and dooms on dooms.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536272" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">She dreams of golden gardens and sweet glooms,<br>Not marvelling why her roses never fall<br>Nor what red mouths were torn to make their blooms.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536272" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The shades keep down which well might roam her hall.<br>Quiet their blood lies in her crimson rooms<br>And she is not afraid of their footfall.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536272" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">They move not from her tapestries, their pall,<br>Nor pace her terraces, their hecatombs,<br>Lest aught she be disturbed, or grieved at all.</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=Wilfred+Owen">Wilfred Owen</a></strong></div>

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