<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115731" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Pleasure</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">True pleasure breathes not city air,<br> Nor in Art's temples dwells,<br>In palaces and towers where<br> The voice of Grandeur dwells.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No! Seek it where high Nature holds<br> Her court 'mid stately groves,<br>Where she her majesty unfolds,<br> And in fresh beauty moves;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where thousand birds of sweetest song,<br> The wildly rushing storm<br>And hundred streams which glide along,<br> Her mighty concert form!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Go where the woods in beauty sleep<br> Bathed in pale Luna's light,<br>Or where among their branches sweep<br> The hollow sounds of night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Go where the warbling nightingale<br> In gushes rich doth sing,<br>Till all the lonely, quiet vale<br> With melody doth ring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Go, sit upon a mountain steep,<br> And view the prospect round;<br>The hills and vales, the valley's sweep,<br> The far horizon bound.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then view the wide sky overhead,<br> The still, deep vault of blue,<br>The sun which golden light doth shed,<br> The clouds of pearly hue.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And as you gaze on this vast scene<br> Your thoughts will journey far,<br>Though hundred years should roll between<br> On Time's swift-passing car.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To ages when the earth was young,<br> When patriarchs, grey and old,<br>The praises of their god oft sung,<br> And oft his mercies told.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You see them with their beards of snow,<br> Their robes of ample form,<br>Their lives whose peaceful, gentle flow,<br> Felt seldom passion's storm.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then a calm, solemn pleasure steals<br> Into your inmost mind;<br>A quiet aura your spirit feels,<br> A softened stillness kind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charlotte+Bront%C3%AB">Charlotte Brontë</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115731" data-title="Pleasure de Charlotte Brontë" data-description="True pleasure breathes not city air,/ Nor in Art's temples dwells,/In palaces and towers where/ The voice of Grandeur dwells./No! Seek it where high Nature holds/ Her court 'mid stately groves,/Where she her majesty unfolds,/ And in fresh beauty m..."></div> </div> </div>

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