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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=343798" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Road to Avignon</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A Minstrel stands on a marble stair, <br>Blown by the bright wind, debonair; <br>Below lies the sea, a sapphire floor, <br>Above on the terrace a turret door <br>Frames a lady, listless and wan, <br>But fair for the eye to rest upon. <br>The minstrel plucks at his silver strings, <br>And looking up to the lady, sings: -- <br>Down the road to Avignon, <br>The long, long road to Avignon, <br>Across the bridge to Avignon, <br>One morning in the spring. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The octagon tower casts a shade <br>Cool and gray like a cutlass blade; <br>In sun-baked vines the cicalas spin, <br>The little green lizards run out and in. <br>A sail dips over the ocean's rim, <br>And bubbles rise to the fountain's brim. <br>The minstrel touches his silver strings, <br>And gazing up to the lady, sings: -- <br>Down the road to Avignon, <br>The long, long road to Avignon, <br>Across the bridge to Avignon, <br>One morning in the spring. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Slowly she walks to the balustrade, <br>Idly notes how the blossoms fade <br>In the sun's caress; then crosses where <br>The shadow shelters a carven chair. <br>Within its curve, supine she lies, <br>And wearily closes her tired eyes. <br>The minstrel beseeches his silver strings, <br>And holding the lady spellbound, sings: -- <br>Down the road to Avignon, <br>The long, long road to Avignon, <br>Across the bridge to Avignon, <br>One morning in the spring. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Clouds sail over the distant trees, <br>Petals are shaken down by the breeze, <br>They fall on the terrace tiles like snow; <br>The sighing of waves sounds, far below. <br>A humming-bird kisses the lips of a rose <br>Then laden with honey and love he goes. <br>The minstrel woos with his silver strings, <br>And climbing up to the lady, sings: -- <br>Down the road to Avignon, <br>The long, long road to Avignon, <br>Across the bridge to Avignon, <br>One morning in the spring. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Step by step, and he comes to her, <br>Fearful lest she suddenly stir. <br>Sunshine and silence, and each to each, <br>The lute and his singing their only speech; <br>He leans above her, her eyes unclose, <br>The humming-bird enters another rose. <br>The minstrel hushes his silver strings. <br>Hark! The beating of humming-birds' wings! <br>Down the road to Avignon, <br>The long, long road to Avignon, <br>Across the bridge to Avignon, <br>One morning in the spring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Amy+Lowell">Amy Lowell</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=343798" data-title="The Road to Avignon de Amy Lowell" data-description="A Minstrel stands on a marble stair, 
Blown by the bright wind, debonair; 
Below lies the sea, a sapphire floor, 
Above on the terrace a turret door 
Frames a lady, listless and wan, 
But fair for the eye to rest upon. 
The minstrel plucks at his ..."></div>
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