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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536538" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Song</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536538" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">O FLY not, Pleasure, pleasant-hearted Pleasure; <br>   Fold me thy wings, I prithee, yet and stay: <br>   For my heart no measure <br>   Knows, nor other treasure <br>To buy a garland for my love to-day. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536538" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And thou, too, Sorrow, tender-hearted Sorrow, <br>   Thou gray-eyed mourner, fly not yet away: <br>   For I fain would borrow <br>   Thy sad weeds to-morrow, <br>   To make a mourning for love's yesterday. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536538" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The voice of Pity, Time's divine dear Pity, <br>   Moved me to tears: I dared not say them nay, <br>   But passed forth from the city, <br>   Making thus my ditty <br>Of fair love lost for ever and a day.</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=Wilfrid+Scawen+Blunt">Wilfrid Scawen Blunt</a></strong></div>

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