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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341870" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Young Friar</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When leaves broke out on the wild briar,<br>And bells for matins rung,<br>Sorrow came to the old friar<br>– Hundreds of years ago it was! –<br>And May came to the young.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The old was ripening for the sky,<br>The young was twenty-four.<br>The Franklin's daughter passed him by,<br>Reading a painted missal-book,<br>Beside the chapel door.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With brown cassock and sandalled feet,<br>And red Spring wine for blood;<br>The very next noon he chanced to meet<br>The Franklin's daughter, in a green May twilight,<br>Walking through the wood.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Pax vobiscum – to a maid<br>The crosiered ferns among!<br>But hers was only the Saxon,<br>And his the Norman tongue;<br>And the Latin taught by the old friar<br>Made music for the young.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And never a better deed was done<br>By Mother Church below<br>Than when she made old England one,<br>– Hundreds of years ago it was! –<br>Hundreds of years ago.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Rich was the painted page they read<br>Before that sunset died;<br>Nut-brown hood by golden head,<br>Murmuring Rosa Mystica,<br>While nesting thrushes cried.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A Saxon maid with flaxen hair,<br>And eyes of Sussex grey;<br>A young monk out of Normandy: –<br>'May is our Lady's month,' he said,<br>'And O, my love, my May!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then over the fallen missal-book<br>The missel-thrushes sung<br>Till – Domus Aurea – rose the moon<br>And bells for vespers rung.<br>It was gold and blue for the old friar,<br>But hawthorn for the young.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For gown of green and brown hood,<br>Before that curfew tolled,<br>Had flown for ever through the wood<br>– Hundreds of years ago it was! –<br>But twenty summers old.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And empty stood his chapel stall,<br>Empty his thin grey cell,<br>Empty her seat in the Franklin's hall;<br>And there were swords that searched for them<br>Before the matin bell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, crowders tell, a sword that night<br>Wrought them an evil turn,<br>And that the may was not more white<br>Than those white bones the robin found<br>Among the roots of fern.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But others tell of stranger things<br>Half-heard on Whitsun eves,<br>Of sweet and ghostly whisperings –<br>Though hundreds of years ago it was –<br>Among the ghostly leaves: –</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sero te amavi –<br>Grey eyes of sun-lit dew! –<br>Tam antiqua, tam nova –<br>Augustine heard it, too.<br>Late have I loved that May, Lady,<br>So ancient, and so new!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And no man knows where they were flown,<br>For the wind takes the may:<br>But white and fresh the may was blown<br>– Though hundreds of years ago it was –<br>As this that blooms to-day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the leaves break out on the wild briar,<br>And bells must still be rung;<br>But sorrow comes to the old friar,<br>For he remembers a May, a May,<br>When his old heart was young.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alfred+Noyes">Alfred Noyes</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=341870" data-title="The Young Friar de Alfred Noyes" data-description="When leaves broke out on the wild briar,
And bells for matins rung,
Sorrow came to the old friar
– Hundreds of years ago it was! –
And May came to the young.

The old was ripening for the sky,
The young was twenty-four.
The Franklin's daughter..."></div>
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