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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116428" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Inscription for the Entrance to a Wood</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Stranger, if thou hast learned a truth which needs<br>No school of long experience, that the world<br>Is full of guilt and misery, and hast seen<br>Enough of all its sorrows, crimes, and cares,<br>To tire thee of it, enter this wild wood<br>And view the haunts of nature. The calm shade<br>Shall bring a kindred calm, and the sweet breeze<br>That makes the green leaves dance, shall waft a balm<br>To thy sick heart. Thou wilt find nothing here<br>Of all that pained thee in the haunts of men,<br>And made thee loathe thy life. The primal curse<br>Fell, it is true, upon the unsinning earth,<br>But not in vengance. God hath yoked to guilt<br>Her pale tormentor, Misery. Hence these shades<br>Are still the abode of gladness; the thick roof<br>Of green and stirring branches is alive<br>And musical with birds, that sing and sport<br>In wantonness of spirit; while below<br>The squirrel, with raised paws and form erect,<br>Chirps merrily. Throngs of insects in the shade<br>Try their thin wings and dance in the warm beam.<br>That waked them into life. Even the green trees<br>Partake the deep contentment; as they bend<br>To the soft winds, the sun from the blue sky<br>Looks in and sheds a blessing on the scene.<br>Scarce less the cleft-born wildflower seems to enjoy<br>Existence, than the winged plunderer<br>That sucks its sweets. The mossy rocks themselves,<br>And the old and ponderous trunks of prostrate trees<br>That lead from knoll to knoll a causeway rude,<br>Or bridge the sunken brook, and their dark roots,<br>With all their roots upon them, twisting high,<br>Breathe fixed tranquility. The rivulet<br>Sends forth glad sounds, and tripping o'er its bed<br>Of pebbly sands, or leaping down the rocks<br>Seems, with continuous laughter, to rejoice<br>In its own being. Softly tread the marge,<br>Lest from her midway perch thou scare the wren<br>That dips her bill in water. The cool wind,<br>That stirs the stream in play, shall come to thee,<br>Like one that loves thee nor will let thee pass<br>Ungreeted, and shall give its light embrace.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Cullen+Bryant">William Cullen Bryant</a><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=116428" data-title="Inscription for the Entrance to a Wood de William Cullen Bryant" data-description="Stranger, if thou hast learned a truth which needs/No school of long experience, that the world/Is full of guilt and misery, and hast seen/Enough of all its sorrows, crimes, and cares,/To tire thee of it, enter this wild wood/And view the haunts o..."></div>
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