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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117255" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Derelict</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In younger days, of idleness grown sick,<br> On this low bank I saw, as in a dream,<br>The fingers of the leaning willows prick<br> Long dimples in the slow, reluctant stream.<br>Watching the pilgrim leaves forsake the stem,<br> Impatient of the dull familiar cove,<br>And idle down the tide, I longed like them,<br> Untrammelled, homeless, free of heart, to rove.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I mind me that of these I noted one<br> That at the bend a wayward eddy turned<br>And drifted back, its journey just begun,<br> The secret of the wider stream unlearned.<br>It seemed a poor reward for one so bold,<br> Checked at the start, and beaten back, to find<br>So stale a death. I did not know, of old,<br> What seemed so hard could be in truth so kind!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I little thought that on a larger stream<br> I, too, one day should drift away at will<br>Toward the distant reaches of my dream<br> From the safe shelter where I lived so still.<br>I little thought that I should one day grow<br> Weary of endless pictures filing past,<br>Of idle life and idler love, and so<br> Come gladly to some little cove at last.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Kind eddy that has caught me from the tide,<br> Of drifting weary, tempest-torn and tost,<br>To find, from the swift current turned aside,<br> The simpler things I thought that I had lost!<br>What have they brought me, all the wasted years,<br> The river’s turns that opened with a smile<br>And ended in the bitterness of tears?<br> Kind God! How little were they worth the while!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet, here and there, around the sudden bends,<br> The opening reaches held some sweet surprise:—<br>My arm has linked and lingered in a friend’s,<br> My eyes have seen love swim in lovely eyes!<br>I have kissed pleasure—walked alone with pain;<br> And, if to life I was apprentice made,<br>My years of toil have brought the toiler’s gain—<br> By life equipped, of life I know the trade!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I have made foes, and so can keep a friend;<br> Learned of a friend how gently foes may score;<br>Played fast and loose with love, and in the end<br> Lost it, and, losing, learned to love the more!<br>Seeking for gifts, I found ’t is joy to give,<br> Searching for truth, was taught to know a lie;<br>Pursuing death, I learned ’t is good to live,<br> In quest of life, I learned it safe to die!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What were it better that the past should be<br> Than like that leaf, turned helplessly aside,<br>That drifted back beneath its mother-tree,<br> And at its root to purer purpose died?<br>Another year yet other leaves there sprung,<br> Fed by the mould of which it formed a part,<br>That subtly heard, mayhap, that voiceless tongue<br> And laid its lesson silently to heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">From soil of pride the plant of meekness grows,<br> From labor’s mine comes gold of sweet surcease;<br>By sorrow’s showers is fed contentment’s rose,<br> And passion’s vultures build the nest of peace:<br>So from past weakness future strength I gain,<br> As poise of knowledge to my doubt succeeds,<br>And faith’s fresh flower, that long I sought in vain,<br> Blooms on the rubbish of my mouldered creeds.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now at the end I see that it was well<br> To drain the cup down to the bitter lees;<br>To foretaste heaven—thread the paths of hell,<br> Else empty words and meaningless were these:<br>Else might I stand, as once I stood outside<br> My fast-locked heart, its best and worst unknown,<br>Till life’s firm hand flung the barred portals wide<br> And led me in, a stranger, to my own!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Guy+Wetmore+Carryl">Guy Wetmore Carryl</a> from <i>The Garden of Years and Other Poems</i><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=117255" data-title="Derelict de Guy Wetmore Carryl" data-description="In younger days, of idleness grown sick,/ On this low bank I saw, as in a dream,/The fingers of the leaning willows prick/ Long dimples in the slow, reluctant stream./Watching the pilgrim leaves forsake the stem,/ Impatient of the dull familiar co..."></div>
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