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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116445" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Strange Lady</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The summer morn is bright and fresh, the birds are darting by,<br>As if they loved to breast the breeze that sweeps the cool dear sky;<br>Young Albert, in the forest's edge, has heard a rustling sound<br>An arrow slightly strikes his hand and falls upon the ground.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A lovely woman from the wood comes suddenly in sight;<br>Her merry eye is full and black, her cheek is brown and bright;<br>She wears a tunic of the blue, her belt with beads is strung,<br>And yet she speaks in gentle tones, and in the English tongue.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"It was an idle bolt I sent, against the villain crow;<br>Fair sir, I fear it harmed thy hand; beshrew my erring bow!"<br>"Ah! would that bolt had not been spent, then, lady, might I wear<br>A lasting token on my hand of one so passing fair!"</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Thou art a flatterer like the rest, but wouldst thou take with me<br>A day of hunting in the wilds, beneath the greenwood tree,<br>I know where most the pheasants feed, and where the red-deer herd,<br>And thou shouldst chase the nobler game, and I bring down the bird."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now Albert in her quiver lays the arrow in its place,<br>And wonders as he gazes on the beauty of her face:<br>'Those hunting-grounds are far away, and, lady, 'twere not meet<br>That night, amid the wilderness, should overtake thy feet."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Heed not the night, a summer lodge amid the wild is mine,<br>'Tis shadowed by the tulip-tree, 'tis mantled by the vine;<br>The wild plum sheds its yellow fruit from fragrant thickets nigh,<br>And flowery prairies from the door stretch till they meet the sky.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"There in the boughs that hide the roof the mock-bird sits and sings,<br>And there the hang-bird's brood within its little hammock swings;<br>A pebbly brook, where rustling winds among the hopples sweep,<br>Shall lull thee till the morning sun looks in upon thy sleep."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Away, into the forest depths by pleasant paths they go,<br>He with his rifle on his arm, the lady with her bow,<br>Where cornels arch their cool dark boughs o'er beds of wintergreen,<br>And never at his father's door again was Albert seen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That night upon the woods came down a furious hurricane,<br>With howl of winds and roar of streams and beating of the rain;<br>The mighty thunder broke and drowned the noises in its crash;<br>The old trees seemed to fight like fiends beneath the lightning-flash.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Next day, within a mossy glen, mid mouldering trunks were found<br>The fragments of a human form, upon the bloody ground;<br>White bones from which the flesh was torn, and locks of glossy hair;<br>They laid them in the place of graves, yet wist not whose they were.<br>And whether famished evening wolves had mangled Albert so,<br>Or that strange dame so gay and fair were some mysterious foe,<br>Or whether to that forest lodge, beyond the mountains blue,<br>He went to dwell with her, the friends who mourned him never knew.</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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