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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=537304" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Wheel</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=537304" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">THROUGH winter-time we call on spring,<br>And through the spring on summer call,<br>And when abounding hedges ring<br>Declare that winter's best of all;<br>And after that there s nothing good<br>Because the spring-time has not come --<br>Nor know that what disturbs our blood<br>Is but its longing for the tomb.</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+Butler+Yeats">William Butler Yeats</a></strong></div>

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