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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=580484" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Tomb (Of Verlaine)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=580484" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Anniversary – January 1897</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=580484" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The black rock enraged that the north wind rolls it on<br>Will not stop itself, nor, under pious hands, still<br>Cease testing its resemblance to human ill<br>As if to bless some fatal cast of bronze.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=580484" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Here nearly always if the ring-dove coos<br>This immaterial grief with many a fold of cloud<br>Crushes the ripe star of tomorrows, whose crowd<br>Will be silvered by its scintillations. Who</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=580484" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Following the solitary leap<br>External now of our vagabond – seeks<br>Verlaine? He’s hidden in the grass, Verlaine</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=580484" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Only to catch, naïvely, not drying it with his breath <br>And without the lip drinking there, at peace again, <br>A shallow stream that’s slandered, and named Death.</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=St%C3%A9phane+Mallarm%C3%A9">Stéphane Mallarmé</a></strong></div>