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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341976" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Eight Years Old</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">SUN, whom the faltering snow-cloud fears,<br>Rise, let the time of year be May,<br>Speak now the word that April hears,<br>Let March have all his royal way;<br>Bid all spring raise in winter’s ears<br>All tunes her children hear or play,<br>Because the crown of eight glad years<br>On one bright head is set to-day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What matters cloud or sun to-day<br>To him who wears the wreath of years<br>So many, and all like flowers at play<br>With wind and sunshine, while his ears<br>Hear only song on every way?<br>More sweet than spring triumphant hears<br>Ring through the revel-rout of May<br>Are these, the notes that winter fears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Strong-hearted winter knows and fears<br>The music made of love at play,<br>Or haply loves the tune he hears<br>From hearts fulfilled with flowering May,<br>Whose molten music thaws his ears<br>Late frozen, deaf but yesterday<br>To sounds of dying and dawning years,<br>Now quickened on his deathward way.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For deathward now lies winter’s way<br>Down the green vestibule of years<br>That each year brightens day by day<br>With flower and shower till hope scarce fears<br>And fear grows wholly hope of May.<br>But we—the music in our ears<br>Made of love’s pulses as they play<br>The heart alone that makes it hears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">V.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The heart it is that plays and hears<br>High salutation of to-day.<br>Tongue falters, hand shrinks back, song fears<br>Its own unworthiness to play<br>Fit music for those eight sweet years,<br>Or sing their blithe accomplished way.<br>No song quite worth a young child’s ears<br>Broke ever even from birds in May.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There beats not in the heart of May,<br>When summer hopes and springtide fears,<br>There falls not from the height of day,<br>When sunlight speaks and silence hears,<br>So sweet a psalm as children play<br>And sing, each hour of all their years,<br>Each moment of their lovely way,<br>And know not how it thrills our ears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah child, what are we, that our ears<br>Should hear you singing on your way,<br>Should have this happiness? The years<br>Whose hurrying wings about us play<br>Are not like yours, whose flower-time fears<br>Nought worse than sunlit showers in May,<br>Being sinless as the spring, that hears<br>Her own heart praise her every day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VIII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet we too triumph in the day<br>That bare, to entrance our eyes and ears,<br>To lighten daylight, and to play<br>Such notes as darkness knows and fears,<br>The child whose face illumes our way,<br>Whose voice lifts up the heart that hears,<br>Whose hand is as the hand of May<br>To bring us flowers from eight full years.</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=341976" data-title="Eight Years Old de Algernon Charles Swinburne" data-description="SUN, whom the faltering snow-cloud fears,
Rise, let the time of year be May,
Speak now the word that April hears,
Let March have all his royal way;
Bid all spring raise in winter’s ears
All tunes her children hear or play,
Because the crown of e..."></div>
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