Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341367" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Dedication To Lady Windsor</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where violets blue to olives gray<br>From furrows brown lift laughing eyes,<br>And silvery Mensola sings its way<br>Through terraced slopes, nor seeks to stay,<br>But onward and downward leaps and flies;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where vines, just newly burgeoned, link<br>Their hands to join the dance of Spring,<br>Green lizards glisten from clest and chink,<br>And almond blossoms rosy pink<br>Cluster and perch, ere taking wing;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where over strips of emerald wheat<br>Glimmer red peach and snowy pear,<br>And nightingales all day long repeat<br>Their love-song, not less glad than sweet,<br>They chant in sorrow and gloom elsewhere;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where, as the mid-day belfries peal,<br>The peasant halts beside his steer,<br>And, while he muncheth his homely meal,<br>The swelling tulips blush to feel<br>The amorous currents of the year;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where purple iris-banners scale<br>Defending wall and crumbling ledge,<br>And virgin windflowers, lithe and frail,<br>Now mantling red, now trembling pale,<br>Peep out from furrow and hide in hedge;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where with loud song the labourer tells<br>His love to maiden loitering nigh,<br>And in the fig-tree's wakening cells<br>The honeyed sweetness swarms and swells,<br>And mountains prop the spacious sky;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where April-daring roses blow<br>From sunny wall and sheltered bower,<br>And Arno flushes with melted snow,<br>And Florence glittering down below<br>Peoples the air with dome and tower;-</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How sweet, when vernal thoughts once more<br>Uncoil them in one's veins, and urge<br>My feet to fly, my wings to soar,<br>And, hastening downward to the shore,<br>I spurn the sand and skim the surge,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, never lingering by the way,<br>But hastening on past candid lakes,<br>Mysterious mountains grim and gray,<br>Past pine woods dark, and bounding spray<br>White as its far-off parent flakes;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And thence from Alp's unfurrowed snow,<br>By Apennine's relenting slope,<br>Zigzagging downward smooth and slow<br>To where, all flushed with the morning glow,<br>Valdarno keeps its pledge with hope;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And then,-the end, the longed-for end!<br>Climbing the hill I oft have clomb,<br>Down which Mugello's waters wend,<br>Again, dear hospitable friend,<br>To find You in your Tuscan home.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You, with your kind lord, standing there,<br>Crowning the morn with youth and grace,<br>And radiant smiles that reach me ere<br>Our hands can touch, and Florence fair<br>Seems fairer in your comely face.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Behind you, Phyllis, mother's pet,<br>Your gift unto the Future, stands,<br>Dimpling your skirt, uncertain yet<br>If she recalls or I forget,<br>With violets fresh in both her hands.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And next, his eyes and cheeks aflame,<br>See Other with his sword arrive;<br>Other, who thus recalls the name,<br>May he some day renew the fame<br>And feats, who boasts the blood, of Clive.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How sweet! how fair! From vale to crest,<br>Come wafts of song and waves of scent,<br>Whose sensuous beauty in the breast<br>Might haply breed a vague unrest,<br>Did not your presence bring content.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For you, not tender more than true,<br>Blend Northern worth with Southern grace;<br>And sure Boccaccio never drew<br>A being so designed as you<br>To be the Genius of the place.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But whether among Tuscan flowers<br>You dwell, fair English flower, or where<br>Saint Fagan lifts its feudal towers,<br>Or Hewell from ancestral bowers<br>Riseth afresh, and yet more fair;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Still may your portals, eve or morn,<br>Fly open when they hear his name,<br>Who, though indeed he would not scorn<br>Welcome from distant days unborn,<br>Prizes your friendship more than fame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alfred+Austin">Alfred Austin</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=341367" data-title="Dedication To Lady Windsor de Alfred Austin" data-description="Where violets blue to olives gray
From furrows brown lift laughing eyes,
And silvery Mensola sings its way
Through terraced slopes, nor seeks to stay,
But onward and downward leaps and flies;

Where vines, just newly burgeoned, link
Their hands to..."></div>
</div>
</div>