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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=339782" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Practising the Anthem</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A summer wind blows through the open porch,<br>And, 'neath the rustling eaves,<br>A summer light of moonrise, calm and pale,<br>Shines through a vale of leaves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The soft gusts bring a scent of summer flowers,<br>Fresh with the falling dew,<br>And round the doorway, glimmering white as snow,<br>The tender petals strew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Clear through the silence, from a reedy pool<br>The curlew's whistle thrills;<br>A lonely mopoke sorrowfully cries<br>From the far-folding hills.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O lovely night, and yet so sad and strange!<br>My fingers touch the key;<br>And down the empty church my Christmas song<br>Goes ringing, glad and free.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Each sweet note knocks at dreaming memory's door,<br>And memory wakes in pain;<br>The spectral faces she had turn'd away<br>Come crowding in again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The air seems full of music all around—<br>I know not what I hear,<br>The multitudinous echoes of the past,<br>Or these few voices near.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah me! the dim aisle vaguely widens out,<br>I see me stand therein;<br>A glory of grey sculpture takes the light<br>A winter morn brings in.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No more I smell the fragrant jessamine flowers<br>That flake a moonlit floor;<br>The rustling night-breeze and the open porch<br>I hear and see no more.<br>Great solemn windows, down a long, long nave<br>Their shadow'd rainbows fling;<br>Dark Purbeck shafts, with hoary capitals,<br>In carven archways spring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And overhead the throbbing organ waves<br>Roll in one mighty sea,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bearing the song the herald angels sang<br>Of Christ's nativity.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dear hands touch mine beneath the open book,<br>Sweet eyes look in my face,—<br>They smile, they melt in darkness; I am snatch'd<br>From my familiar place.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The summer night-wind blows upon my tears;<br>Its flowery scent is pain.<br>O cold, white day! O noble minster—when<br>May I come back again!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To hear the angels' anthem shake the air,<br>Where never discord jars,—<br>The Christmas carols in the windy street,<br>Under the frosty stars;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The dream-like falling from the still, grey skies,<br>With falling flakes of snow,<br>Of mellow chimes from old cathedral bells,<br>Solemn and sweet and slow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To hear loved footsteps beating time with mine<br>Along the churchyard path,—<br>To see that ring of faces once again<br>Drawn round the blazing hearth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When may I come? O Lord, when may I go?<br>Nay, I must wait Thy will.<br>Give patience, Lord, and in Thine own best way<br>My hopes and prayers fulfil.</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=339782" data-title="Practising the Anthem de Ada Cambridge" data-description="A summer wind blows through the open porch,
And, 'neath the rustling eaves,
A summer light of moonrise, calm and pale,
Shines through a vale of leaves.

The soft gusts bring a scent of summer flowers,
Fresh with the falling dew,
And round the door..."></div>
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