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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348710" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Barcarolle</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The stars are dimly seen among the shadows of the bay, <br>And lights that win are seen in strife with lights that die away. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The wave is very still -- the rudder loosens in our hand, <br>The zephyr will not fill our sail and waft us to the land; <br>O precious is the pause between the winds that come and go, <br>And sweet the silence of the shores between the ebb and flow. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">No sound but sound of rest is on the bosom of the deep, <br>Soft as the breathing of a breast serenly hushed with sleep: <br>Lay by the ear; there is a voice at heart to sing or sigh -- <br>O what shall be the choice of barcarolle or lullaby? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Say shall we sing of day or night, fair land or mighty ocean, <br>Of any rapturous delight or any dear emotion, <br>Of any joy that is on earth, or hope that is above-- <br>The holy country of our birth, or any song of love? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Our heart in all our life is like the hand of one who steers <br>A bark upon an ocean rife with dangers and with fears; <br>The joys, the hopes, like waves or wings, bear up this life of ours -- <br>Short as a song of all these things that make up all its hours. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Spread sail! For it is Hope today that like a wind new-risen <br>Doth waft us on a golden wing towards a new horizon, <br>That is the sun before our sight, the beacon for us burning, <br>That is the star in all our night of watching and of yearning. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Love is this thing that we pursue today, tonight, for ever, <br>We care not whither, know not who shall be at length the giver: <br>For Love, -- our life and all our years are cast upon the waves; <br>Our heart is as the hand that steers; -- but who is He that saves? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We ply with oars, we strive with every sail upon our mast -- <br>We never tire, never fail -- and Love is seen at last: <br>A low and purple mirage like a coast where day is breaking -- <br>Sink sail! for such a dream of Love is lost before the waking.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Arthur+William+Edgar+O%27Shaughnessy">Arthur William Edgar O'Shaughnessy</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=348710" data-title="Barcarolle de Arthur William Edgar O'Shaughnessy" data-description="The stars are dimly seen among the shadows of the bay, 
And lights that win are seen in strife with lights that die away. 

The wave is very still -- the rudder loosens in our hand, 
The zephyr will not fill our sail and waft us to the land; 
O pr..."></div>
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