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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=339760" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Grey</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Is the morning dim and cloudy? Does the wind drift up the leaves?<br>Is there mist upon the mountains, where the sun shone yesterday?<br>Are the little song-birds silent? Is the sky all blurred and grey?<br>Does the rain fall, patter, patter, from the eaves?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Does your glass go down? And does your heart sink in the dreary lull?<br>Are the strings relax'd and limp, and do the soft notes whine and cry?<br>Has the damp got in and jarred the chords and spoil'd the melody?<br>Are you out of tune, belovèd? are you dull?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Has the chill wind found an entrance? Does it sigh and rustle there?<br>Is it drifting, not the dead leaves, but your dead hopes, all about?<br>Is it waking up your sorrow while your light is blotted out?<br>Does your heart seem sad and cold and full of care?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Are you listless and discouraged, dear? and does your life look grey?<br>Does there seem no use in trying? Does your work fall from your hand?<br>Would you give up the great riddle that's so hard to understand?<br>Oh, then, go you to your chamber straight, and pray.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Go and pray, and God will give you peace and comfort for your pain—<br>All the misty, dull confusion He will tenderly reform—<br>And the fire of His own Spirit, that shall make you dry and warm;<br>And your harp-strings shall be strung and tuned again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ay, the Lord will put the melody in your heart and soul anew;<br>So that, howsoe'er unskilled and rude the hands that touch the wires,<br>There shall come forth beautiful chords of faith and hope and high desires,<br>Only music that is deep and sweet and true.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Go and work,—the clouds will show the silver lining that's behind.<br>Go to squalid lanes and alleys, where grim want and sickness lurk;<br>Feed the hungry, soothe the suffering, tell the poor of Christ,—oh, work,<br>And you'll no more hear the rustling of the wind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then you'll no more hear the restless, hopeless sobbing over sin,<br>No more hear the earthly troubles crying, crying from the ground;<br>For the wings of guardian angels, they shall compass you around,<br>That the wind shall have no place to enter in.<br>Then, as wither'd leaves lie browning on the quiet grassy slopes,<br>As they sink in peaceful earth, and moulder with it as they die,<br>To help nurture precious seeds for coming summers— so shall lie,<br>Calm and still, your sorrowful memories and dead hopes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O belovèd, work and wait! The sun will shine another day,<br>On a heart refresh'd, and strong, and green, and cool. The rain and gloom<br>Are to make the sap run quicker, give the flowers a deeper bloom—<br>We have need for both the golden and the grey.</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=339760" data-title="Grey de Ada Cambridge" data-description="Is the morning dim and cloudy? Does the wind drift up the leaves?
Is there mist upon the mountains, where the sun shone yesterday?
Are the little song-birds silent? Is the sky all blurred and grey?
Does the rain fall, patter, patter, from the eave..."></div>
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