<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116380" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Prologue to Pacchiarotto</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O the old wall here! How I could pass<br> Life in a long Midsummer day,<br>My feet confined to a plot of grass,<br> My eyes from a wall not once away!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And lush and lithe, do the creepers clothe<br> Yon wall I watch, with a wealth of green:<br>Its bald red bricks draped, nothing loth,<br> In lappets of tangle they laugh between.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now, what is it makes pulsate the robe?<br> Why tremble the sprays? What life o'er brims<br>The body,—the house, no eye can probe,—<br> Divined as, beneath a robe, the limbs?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And there again! But my heart may guess<br> Who tripped behind; and she sang perhaps:<br>So, the old wall throbbed, and its life's excess<br> Died out and away in the leafy wraps.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">V</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wall upon wall are between us: life<br> And song should away from heart to heart.<br>I—prison-bird, with a ruddy strife<br> At breast, and a lip whence storm-notes start—</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hold on, hope hard in the subtle thing<br> That's spirit: though cloistered fast, soar free;<br>Account as wood, brick, stone, this ring<br> Of the rueful neighbors, and—forth to thee!</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>Pacchiarotto</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=116380" data-title="Prologue to Pacchiarotto de Robert Browning" data-description="I/O the old wall here! How I could pass/ Life in a long Midsummer day,/My feet confined to a plot of grass,/ My eyes from a wall not once away!/II/And lush and lithe, do the creepers clothe/ Yon wall I watch, with a wealth of green:/Its bald red b..."></div> </div> </div>

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