<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=340348" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Spring Morning</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where am I going? I don't quite know.<br>Down to the stream where the king-cups grow-<br>Up on the hill where the pine-trees blow-<br>Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where am I going? The clouds sail by,<br>Little ones, baby ones, over the sky.<br>Where am I going? The shadows pass,<br>Little ones, baby ones, over the grass.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If you were a cloud, and sailed up there,<br>You'd sail on water as blue as air,<br>And you'd see me here in the fields and say:<br>'Doesn't the sky look green today?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where am I going? The high rooks call:<br>'It's awful fun to be born at all.'<br>Where am I going? The ring-doves coo:<br>'We do have beautiful things to do.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If you were a bird, and lived on high,<br>You'd lean on the wind when the wind came by,<br>You'd say to the wind when it took you away:<br>'That's where I wanted to go today!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where am I going? I don't quite know.<br>What does it matter where people go?<br>Down to the wood where the blue-bells grow-<br>Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alan+Alexander+Milne">Alan Alexander Milne</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=340348" data-title="Spring Morning de Alan Alexander Milne" data-description="Where am I going? I don't quite know. Down to the stream where the king-cups grow- Up on the hill where the pine-trees blow- Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know. Where am I going? The clouds sail by, Little ones, baby ones, over the sky. Where am I ..."></div> </div> </div>

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