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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=339742" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>By a Norfolk Broad</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">One hour ago the crimson sun, that seemed so long a-drowning, sank.<br>The summer day is all but done. Our boat is moored beneath the bank.<br>I bask in peace, content, replete — my faithful comrade at my feet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The water-violet shuts its eye; the water-lily petals close;<br>So in the evening light we lie and dream in undisturbed repose.<br>How far all petty cares have flown! How calm the fretful world has grown!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We only hear the gentle breeze, in tender sighs and whispers, pass<br>Through osier beds and alder trees, and rustling flags and bending grass;<br>The song of blackbird in the hedge, the quack of wild-duck in the sedge.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The distant bark of farmhouse dogs, the piping of a clear-voiced thrush,<br>The murmurous babble of the frogs, of rippling stream in reed and rush;<br>The splash of pike and bream that rise to flitting moths and dragon-files.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Far from the haunts of striving men, the toil and moil, the dust and din,<br>At home, at peace, in this lone fen, with these our dumb and gentler kin;<br>In Mother Nature's arms at rest, we drink the nectar of her breast.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The fragrance of these dewy hours, the perfume that the rich earth yields,<br>Sweetbriar and bean and clover-flowers, the incense of the quiet fields;<br>The new-cut hay, so sweet and fresh . . . . what balm to spirit and to flesh!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And those white gulls, inland for food; and that still heron, carved in jet;<br>That paddling water-hen and brood, those swifts and swallows, hunting yet;<br>All these soft creatures, wild and free, how lovely and how kind they be!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Kind to that monster of the gun, that ravager of earth and sky,<br>From whom the fledgelings hide and run — the immemorial enemy!<br>Ah, but this hand of their dread lord hath sheathed the devastating sword.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Tell them, my comrade, in thy tongue, that I come not to rob and strike.<br>Tell these shy hearts, so wronged and wrung, that all men's hearts are not alike.<br>In the Dark Ages of thy race, thou hast foretaste of light and grace.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou, love-enfranchised, that canst sleep unharmed, unharried, at my door,<br>Wolf-brother, taught to guard the sheep, teach them that man is something more<br>Than instrument of woe and death to half the creatures that have breath.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> * * * * *<br>The western glories fade and pass. The twilight deepens more and more.<br>A thin mist, like a breath on glass, veils shining mere and distant shore.<br>The moor-hen's family is fed. The heron hies him home to bed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No hum of gnat or bee is heard; no pipe of thrush on hawthorn bough;<br>No cry of any beast or bird to stir the solemn stillness now,<br>Though earth and air and stream are rife with latent energies of life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Silent the otter where he prowls, the gliding polecat and her prey;<br>Silent the soft-winged mousing owls, the flickering bats, like imps at play.<br>War, death, the fighters and the fight — all ghostly shadows of the night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What means that questioning paw of thine? those wistful eyes upon my face?<br>Ah, hunter! Dost thou sniff and whine? Art still a-quiver for the chase?<br>Peace — peace! Lie down again, old hound. This place to-night is holy ground.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">  * * * * *<br>The clocks strike ten. The last, last gleam of lingering day has disappeared.<br>On field and marsh and quiet stream a few stars shine. The mist has cleared.<br>The willows of the further shore stand outlined on the sky once more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How clear the blackness, leaf and bark, the plumes upon those bulbous stumps!<br>A pallid fragment of the dark shows fine-etched flag and osier clumps.<br>Sharper and sharper in the glow the iris and the bulrush grow.<br>A faint dawn glimmers on the sedge, the grassy banks, the flowery meads;<br>A bright disc shows its radiant edge, the round moon rises from the reeds;<br>The sleeping lilies take the light; their steel-dark bed turns silver-white.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That path of glory, widening, streams across the mere to where we sit.<br>My sight swims in its dazzling beams; spirit and brain are steeped in it . . . .<br>Dost thou not answer to the touch? Listen, my dog, that knows so much: —</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There may be lovelier worlds than this, a heavenly country, vast and fair,<br>Where saints and seraphs dwell in bliss — I do not know — I do not care.<br>While in my human flesh I live I ask no more than earth can give.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ethereal essences may roam Elysian Fields beyond the grave,<br>But we, my dog, will saunter home, to all we love and all we crave.<br>God sees us thankful for our lot. The Unborn Day concerns us not.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ada+Cambridge">Ada Cambridge</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=339742" data-title="By a Norfolk Broad de Ada Cambridge" data-description="One hour ago the crimson sun, that seemed so long a-drowning, sank.
The summer day is all but done. Our boat is moored beneath the bank.
I bask in peace, content, replete — my faithful comrade at my feet.

The water-violet shuts its eye; the wat..."></div>
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