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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116309" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Two in the Campagna</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I wonder do you feel to-day<br> As I have felt since, hand in hand,<br>We sat down on the grass, to stray<br> In spirit better through the land,<br>This morn of Rome and May?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For me, I touched a thought, I know,<br> Has tantalized me many times,<br>(Like turns of thread the spiders throw<br> Mocking across our path) for rhymes<br>To catch at and let go.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Help me to hold it! First it left<br> The yellowing fennel, run to seed<br>There, branching from the brickwork's cleft,<br> Some old tomb's ruin: yonder weed<br>Took up the floating weft,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where one small orange cup amassed<br> Five beetles,—blind and green they grope<br>Among the honey-meal: and last,<br> Everywhere on the grassy slope<br>I traced it. Hold it fast!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">V</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The champaign with its endless fleece<br> Of feathery grasses everywhere!<br>Silence and passion, joy and peace,<br> An everlasting wash of air—<br>Rome's ghost since her decease.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Such life here, through such lengths of hours,<br> Such miracles performed in play,<br>Such primal naked forms of flowers,<br> Such letting nature have her way<br>While heaven looks from its towers!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How say you? Let us, O my dove,<br> Let us be unashamed of soul,<br>As earth lies bare to heaven above!<br> How is it under our control<br>To love or not to love?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I would that you were all to me,<br> You that are just so much, no more.<br>Nor yours nor mine, nor slave nor free!<br> Where does the fault lie? What the core<br>O' the wound, since wound must be?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IX</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I would I could adopt your will,<br> See with your eyes, and set my heart<br>Beating by yours, and drink my fill<br> At your soul's springs,—your part my part<br>In life, for good and ill.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">X</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No. I yearn upward, touch you close,<br> Then stand away. I kiss your cheek,<br>Catch your soul's warmth,—I pluck the rose<br> And love it more than tongue can speak—<br>Then the good minute goes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Already how am I so far<br> Out of that minute? Must I go<br>Still like the thistle-ball, no bar,<br> Onward, whenever light winds blow,<br>Fixed by no friendly star?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Just when I seemed about to learn!<br> Where is the thread now? Off again!<br>The old trick! Only I discern—<br> Infinite passion, and the pain<br>Of finite hearts that yearn.</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>Men and Women</i><div class=q>
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<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=116309" data-title="Two in the Campagna de Robert Browning" data-description="I/I wonder do you feel to-day/ As I have felt since, hand in hand,/We sat down on the grass, to stray/ In spirit better through the land,/This morn of Rome and May?/II/For me, I touched a thought, I know,/ Has tantalized me many times,/(Like turns..."></div>
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