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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116429" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>June</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I gazed upon the glorious sky<br>And the green mountains round,<br>And thought that when I came to lie<br>At rest within the ground,<br>"Twere pleasant, that in flowery June,<br>When brooks send up a cheerful tune,<br>And groves a joyous sound,<br>The sexton's hand, my grave to make,<br>The rich, green mountain-turf should break.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A cell within the frozen mould,<br>A coffin borne through sleet,<br>And icy clods above it rolled,<br>While fierce the tempests beat--<br>Away!--I will not think of these--<br>Blue be the sky and soft the breeze,<br>Earth green beneath the feet,<br>And be the damp mould gently pressed<br>Into my narrow place of rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There through the long, long summer hours,<br>The golden light should lie,<br>And thick young herbs and groups of flowers<br>Stand in their beauty by.<br>The oriole should build and tell<br>His love-tale close beside my cell;<br>The idle butterfly<br>Should rest him there, and there be heard<br>The housewife bee and humming-bird.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And what if cheerful shouts at noon<br>Come, from the village sent,<br>Or songs of maids, beneath the moon<br>With fairy laughter blent?<br>And what if, in the evening light,<br>Betrothed lovers walk in sight<br>Of my low monument?<br>I would the lovely scene around<br>Might know no sadder sight nor sound.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I know that I no more should see<br>The season's glorious show,<br>Nor would its brightness shine for me,<br>Nor its wild music flow;<br>But if, around my place of sleep,<br>The friends I love should come to weep,<br>They might not haste to go.<br>Soft airs, and song, and light, and bloom<br>Should keep them lingering by my tomb.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">These to their softened hearts should bear<br>The thought of what has been,<br>And speak of one who cannot share<br>The gladness of the scene;<br>Whose part, in all the pomp that fills<br>The circuit of the summer hills,<br>Is that his grave is green;<br>And deeply would their hearts rejoice<br>To hear again his living voice.</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=116429" data-title="June de William Cullen Bryant" data-description="I gazed upon the glorious sky/And the green mountains round,/And thought that when I came to lie/At rest within the ground,/"Twere pleasant, that in flowery June,/When brooks send up a cheerful tune,/And groves a joyous sound,/The sexton's hand, m..."></div>
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