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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116438" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Spring in Town</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The country ever has a lagging Spring,<br>Waiting for May to call its violets forth,<br>And June its roses--showers and sunshine bring,<br>Slowly, the deepening verdure o'er the earth;<br>To put their foliage out, the woods are slack,<br>And one by one the singing-birds come back.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Within the city's bounds the time of flowers<br>Comes earlier. Let a mild and sunny day,<br>Such as full often, for a few bright hours,<br>Breathes through the sky of March the airs of May,<br>Shine on our roofs and chase the wintry gloom--<br>And lo! our borders glow with sudden bloom.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For the wide sidewalks of Broadway are then<br>Gorgeous as are a rivulet's banks in June,<br>That overhung with blossoms, through its glen,<br>Slides soft away beneath the sunny noon,<br>And they who search the untrodden wood for flowers<br>Meet in its depths no lovelier ones than ours.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For here are eyes that shame the violet,<br>Or the dark drop that on the pansy lies,<br>And foreheads, white, as when in clusters set,<br>The anemonies by forest fountains rise;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the spring-beauty boasts no tenderer streak<br>Than the soft red on many a youthful cheek.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And thick about those lovely temples lie<br>Locks that the lucky Vignardonne has curled,<br>Thrice happy man! whose trade it is to buy,<br>And bake, and braid those love-knots of the world;<br>Who curls of every glossy colour keepest,<br>And sellest, it is said, the blackest cheapest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And well thou may'st--for Italy's brown maids<br>Send the dark locks with which their brows are dressed,<br>And Gascon lasses, from their jetty braids,<br>Crop half, to buy a riband for the rest;<br>But the fresh Norman girls their tresses spare,<br>And the Dutch damsel keeps her flaxen hair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then, henceforth, let no maid nor matron grieve,<br>To see her locks of an unlovely hue,<br>Frouzy or thin, for liberal art shall give<br>Such piles of curls as nature never knew.<br>Eve, with her veil of tresses, at the sight<br>Had blushed, outdone, and owned herself a fright.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Soft voices and light laughter wake the street,<br>Like notes of woodbirds, and where'er the eye<br>Threads the long way, plumes wave, and twinkling feet<br>Fall light, as hastes that crowd of beauty by.<br>The ostrich, hurrying o'er the desert space,<br>Scarce bore those tossing plumes with fleeter pace.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No swimming Juno gait, of languor born,<br>Is theirs, but a light step of freest grace,<br>Light as Camilla's o'er the unbent corn,<br>A step that speaks the spirit of the place,<br>Since Quiet, meek old dame, was driven away<br>To Sing Sing and the shores of Tappan bay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ye that dash by in chariots! who will care<br>For steeds or footmen now? ye cannot show<br>Fair face, and dazzling dress, and graceful air,<br>And last edition of the shape! Ah no,<br>These sights are for the earth and open sky,<br>And your loud wheels unheeded rattle by.</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=116438" data-title="Spring in Town de William Cullen Bryant" data-description="The country ever has a lagging Spring,/Waiting for May to call its violets forth,/And June its roses--showers and sunshine bring,/Slowly, the deepening verdure o'er the earth;/To put their foliage out, the woods are slack,/And one by one the singi..."></div>
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