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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=349970" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>St. Ame</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A SUNNY glade below the bridge;<br>Clear shadows branching through a stream;<br>A hillock purple to the ridge<br>With velvet thyme; and the far gleam<br>Of white clouds in a dream,<br>Floating above the dusky lines<br>Of silent mountains black with pines.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An idle hour to lose away,<br>To question not, nor muse, nor know:<br>The ripples ripple where they may<br>From brown into the amber glow;<br>The moments drift and go.<br>And what is life, and toil, and fret?<br>We only breathe, and we forget.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So in their summer fields might rest<br>Disprisoned shades that henceforth share<br>The careless strength of souls possessed<br>By but the moment that is there,<br>The strength which children wear;<br>Might so be stilled from thought or speech,<br>Passed into calm beyond their reach.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And lo, the dragon-fly's locked wings<br>Upon the leaf my breath could stir;<br>And on my sleeve undoubting springs<br>A merry-minded grasshopper;<br>And, see, behind that fir,<br>A rat across our brook has come,<br>And rustles past us to his home.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the sweet air is hushed with sound<br>More tranceful than low lullabies,<br>The plashings of the waters drowned<br>In babble of small insect cries<br>And surge of leafy sighs.<br>We hear, not heed: enough for us<br>Resting to feel that rest is thus.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not now. Oh vacant hour long past,<br>Wherefore to-day live back in thee?<br>Ill hour that grew no growth to last,<br>Flower without seed, unfruitful tree,<br>Hast thou still right to be?<br>Fade out forgotten, ghost of nought,<br>What worth or wisdom hast thou brought?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nay, seedless, fruitless hour, not so;<br>Fade not, but hide from sterner looks.<br>We have a secret we two know,<br>The secret of the woods, the brooks,<br>Of wild flowers in their nooks,<br>Of all glad growing things' delight<br>That live and never long for night:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A secret hidden from thought and will,<br>And only given to those who cease<br>From toil and pondering and are still,<br>The secret of that soulless peace,<br>The soul's joy and release,<br>To sit and see the sun and smile<br>Only because we live the while.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Augusta+Davies+Webster">Augusta Davies Webster</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=349970" data-title="St. Ame de Augusta Davies Webster" data-description="A SUNNY glade below the bridge;
Clear shadows branching through a stream;
A hillock purple to the ridge
With velvet thyme; and the far gleam
Of white clouds in a dream,
Floating above the dusky lines
Of silent mountains black with pines.

An idle ..."></div>
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