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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536977" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Memory</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536977" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">SO shuts the marigold her leaves<br> At the departure of the sun;<br>So from the honeysuckle sheaves<br> The bee goes when the day is done;<br>So sits the turtle when she is but one,<br>And so all woe, as I since she is gone.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536977" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">To some few birds kind Nature hath<br> Made all the summer as one day:<br>Which once enjoy'd, cold winter's wrath<br> As night they sleeping pass away.<br>Those happy creatures are, that know not yet<br>The pain to be deprived or to forget.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536977" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I oft have heard men say there be<br> Some that with confidence profess<br>The helpful Art of Memory:<br> But could they teach Forgetfulness,<br>I'd learn; and try what further art could do<br>To make me love her and forget her 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=William+Browne">William Browne</a></strong></div>

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