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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341909" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Jacobite's Exile</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The weary day runs down and dies,<br>The weary night wears through:<br>And never an hour is fair wi' flower,<br>And never a flower wi' dew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I would the day were night for me,<br>I would the night were day:<br>For then would I stand in my ain fair land,<br>As now in dreams I may.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O lordly flow the Loire and Seine,<br>And loud the dark Durance:<br>But bonnier shine the braes of Tyne<br>Than a' the fields of France;<br>And the waves of Till that speak sae still<br>Gleam goodlier where they glance.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O weel were they that fell fighting<br>On dark Drumossie's day:<br>They keep their hame ayont the faem<br>And we die far away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O sound they sleep, and saft, and deep,<br>But night and day wake we;<br>And ever between the sea banks green<br>Sounds loud the sundering sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And ill we sleep, sae sair we weep<br>But sweet and fast sleep they:<br>And the mool that haps them roun' and laps them<br>Is e'en their country's clay;<br>But the land we tread that are not dead<br>Is strange as night by day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Strange as night in a strange man's sight,<br>Though fair as dawn it be:<br>For what is here that a stranger's cheer<br>Should yet wax blithe to see?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The hills stand steep, the dells lie deep,<br>The fields are green and gold:<br>The hill-streams sing, and the hill-sides ring,<br>As ours at home of old.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But hills and flowers are nane of ours,<br>And ours are over sea:<br>And the kind strange land whereon we stand,<br>It wotsna what were we<br>Or ever we came, wi' scathe and shame,<br>To try what end might be.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Scathe and shame, and a waefu' name,<br>And a weary time and strange,<br>Have they that seeing a weird for dreeing<br>Can die, and cannot change.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shame and scorn may we thole that mourn,<br>Though sair be they to dree:<br>But ill may we bide the thoughts we hide,<br>Mair keen than wind and sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ill may we thole the night's watches,<br>And ill the weary day:<br>And the dreams that keep the gates of sleep,<br>A waefu' gift gie they;<br>For the songs they sing us, the sights they bring us,<br>The morn blaws all away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On Aikenshaw the sun blinks braw,<br>The burn rins blithe and fain:<br>There's nought wi' me I wadna gie<br>To look thereon again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On Keilder-side the wind blaws wide:<br>There sounds nae hunting-horn<br>That rings sae sweet as the winds that beat<br>Round banks where Tyne is born.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Wansbeck sings with all her springs<br>The bents and braes give ear;<br>But the wood that rings wi' the sang she sings<br>I may not see nor hear;<br>For far and far thae blithe burns are,<br>And strange is a' thing near.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The light there lightens, the day there brightens,<br>The loud wind there lives free:<br>Nae light comes nigh me or wind blaws by me<br>That I wad hear or see.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But O gin I were there again,<br>Afar ayont the faem,<br>Cauld and dead in the sweet saft bed<br>That haps my sires at hame!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We'll see nae mair the sea-banks fair,<br>And the sweet grey gleaming sky,<br>And the lordly strand of Northumberland,<br>And the goodly towers thereby;<br>And none shall know but the winds that blow<br>The graves wherein we lie.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Algernon+Charles+Swinburne">Algernon Charles Swinburne</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=341909" data-title="A Jacobite's Exile de Algernon Charles Swinburne" data-description="The weary day runs down and dies,
The weary night wears through:
And never an hour is fair wi' flower,
And never a flower wi' dew.

I would the day were night for me,
I would the night were day:
For then would I stand in my ain fair land,
As now i..."></div>
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