<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116446" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The West Wind</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beneath the forest's skirts I rest,<br>Whose branching pines rise dark and high,<br>And hear the breezes of the West<br>Among the threaded foliage sigh.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sweet Zephyr! why that sound of wo?<br>Is not thy home among the flowers?<br>Do not the bright June roses blow,<br>To meet thy kiss at morning hours?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And lo! thy glorious realm outspread<br>Yon stretching valleys, green and gay,<br>And yon free hilltops, o'er whose head<br>The loose white clouds are borne away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And there the full broad river runs,<br>And many a fount wells fresh and sweet,<br>To cool thee when the mid-day suns<br>Have made thee faint beneath their heat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou wind of joy, and youth, and love;<br>Spirit of the new wakened year!<br>The sun in his blue realm above<br>Smooths a bright path when thou art here.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In lawns the murmuring bee is heard,<br>The wooing ring-dove in the shade;<br>On thy soft breath, the new-fledged bird<br>Takes wing, half happy, half afraid.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! thou art like our wayward race;<br>When not a shade of pain or ill<br>Dims the bright smile of Nature's face,<br>Thou lov'st to sigh and murmur still.</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> <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=116446" data-title="The West Wind de William Cullen Bryant" data-description="Beneath the forest's skirts I rest,/Whose branching pines rise dark and high,/And hear the breezes of the West/Among the threaded foliage sigh./Sweet Zephyr! why that sound of wo?/Is not thy home among the flowers?/Do not the bright June roses blo..."></div> </div> </div>

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