<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115815" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Choriambics-II.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here the flame that was ash, shrine that was void, lost in the haunted wood,<br>I have tended and loved, year upon year, I in the solitude<br>Waiting, quiet and glad-eyed in the dark, knowing that once a gleam<br>Glowed and went through the wood. Still I abode strong in a golden dream,<br>Unrecaptured.<br> For I, I that had faith, knew that a face would glance<br>One day, white in the dim woods, and a voice call, and a radiance<br>Fill the grove, and the fire suddenly leap . . . and, in the heart of it,<br>End of labouring, you! Therefore I kept ready the altar, lit<br>The flame, burning apart.<br> Face of my dreams vainly in vision white<br>Gleaming down to me, lo! hopeless I rise now. For about midnight<br>Whispers grew through the wood suddenly, strange cries in the boughs above<br>Grated, cries like a laugh. Silent and black then through the sacred grove<br>Great birds flew, as a dream, troubling the leaves, passing at length.<br> I knew<br>Long expected and long loved, that afar, God of the dim wood, you<br>Somewhere lay, as a child sleeping, a child suddenly reft from mirth,<br>White and wonderful yet, white in your youth, stretched upon foreign earth,<br>God, immortal and dead!<br> Therefore I go; never to rest, or win<br>Peace, and worship of you more, and the dumb wood and the shrine therein.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Rupert+Brooke">Rupert Brooke</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=115815" data-title="Choriambics-II. de Rupert Brooke" data-description="Here the flame that was ash, shrine that was void, lost in the haunted wood,/I have tended and loved, year upon year, I in the solitude/Waiting, quiet and glad-eyed in the dark, knowing that once a gleam/Glowed and went through the wood. Still I a..."></div> </div> </div>

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