<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116131" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Rudel to the Lady of Tripoli</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I know a Mount, the gracious Sun perceives<br>First, when he visits, last, too, when he leaves<br>The world; and, vainly favored, it repays<br>The day-long glory of his steadfast gaze<br>By no change of its large calm front of snow.<br>And underneath the Mount, a Flower I know,<br>He cannot have perceived, that changes ever<br>At his approach; and in the lost endeavor<br>To live his life, has parted, one by one,<br>With all a flower's true graces, for the grace<br>Of being but a foolish mimic sun,<br>With ray-like florets round a disk-like face.<br>Men nobly call by many a name the Mount<br>As over many a land of theirs its large<br>Calm front of snow like a triumphal targe<br>Is reared, and still with old names, fresh names vie,<br>Each to its proper praise and own account:<br>Men call the Flower, the Sunflower, sportively.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, Angel of the East, one, one gold look<br>Across the waters to this twilight nook,<br>—The far sad waters, Angel, to this nook!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dear Pilgrim, art thou for the East indeed?<br>Go!—saying ever as thou dost proceed,<br>That I, French Rudel, choose for my device<br>A sunflower outspread like a sacrifice<br>Before its idol. See! These inexpert<br>And hurried fingers could not fail to hurt<br>The woven picture; 'tis a woman's skill<br>Indeed; but nothing baffled me, so, ill<br>Or well, the work is finished. Say, men feed<br>On songs I sing, and therefore bask the bees<br>On my flower's breast as on a platform broad:<br>But as the flower's concern is not for these<br>But solely for the sun, so men applaud<br>In vain this Rudel, he not looking here<br>But to the East—the East! Go, say this, Pilgrim dear!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Browning">Robert Browning</a> from <i>Cavalier Tunes</i><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=116131" data-title="Rudel to the Lady of Tripoli de Robert Browning" data-description="I/I know a Mount, the gracious Sun perceives/First, when he visits, last, too, when he leaves/The world; and, vainly favored, it repays/The day-long glory of his steadfast gaze/By no change of its large calm front of snow./And underneath the Mount..."></div> </div> </div>

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