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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354152" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Lars</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Tell us a story of these Isles,&quot; they said,<br>The daughters of the West, whose eyes had seen<br>For the first time the circling sea, instead<br>Of the blown prairie's waves of grassy green:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Tell us of wreck and peril, storm and cold,<br>Wild as the wildest.&quot; Under summer stars<br>With the slow moonrise at our back, I told<br>The story of the young Norwegian, Lars.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That youth with the black eyebrows sharply drawn<br>In strong curves like some sea-bird's wings outspread<br>O'er his dark eyes, is Lars, and this fair dawn<br>Of womanhood, the maiden he will wed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She loves him for the dangers he has past.<br>Her rosy beauty glowed before his stern<br>And vigilant regard, until at last<br>Her sweetness vanquished Lars the taciturn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For he is ever quiet, strong, and wise;<br>Wastes nothing, not a gesture nor a breath;<br>Forgets not, gazing in the maiden's eyes,<br>A year ago it was not love, but death,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That clasped him, and can hardly learn as yet<br>How to be merry, haunted by that pain<br>And terror, and remembering with regret<br>The comrade he can never see again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Out from the harbor on that winter day<br>Sailed the two men to set their trawl together.<br>Down swept the sudden snow-squall o'er the bay,<br>And hurled their slight boat onward like a feather.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They tossed they knew not whither, till at last,<br>Under the lighthouse cliff they found a lee,<br>And out the road-lines of the trawl they cast<br>To moor her, is so happy they might be.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But quick the slender road-lines snapt in twain<br>In the wild breakers, and once more they tossed<br>Adrift; and, watching from his misty pane,<br>The lighthouse keeper muttered, &quot;They are lost!&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lifted the snow: night fell; swift cleared the sky;<br>The air grew sharp as death with polar cold;<br>Raged the insensate gale, and flashing high<br>In starlight keen the hissing billows rolled.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Driven before the winds incessant scourge<br>All night they fled, -- one dead ere morning lay.<br>Lars saw his strange, drawn countenance emerge<br>In the fierce sunrise light of that drear day,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And thought, &quot;A little space and I shall be<br>Even as he,&quot; and, gazing in despair<br>O'er the wide, weltering waste, no sign could see<br>Of hope, of help, or comfort, anywhere.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Two hundred miles before the hurricane <br>The dead and living drove across the sea.<br>The third day dawned. His dim eyes saw again<br>The vast green plain, breaking eternally</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In ghastly waves. But in the early light,<br>On the horizon glittering like a star,<br>Fast growing, looming tall, with canvas white,<br>Sailed his salvation southward from afar!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Down she bore, rushing o'er the hills of brine,<br>Straight for his feeble signal. As she passed,<br>Out from the schooner's deck they flung a line,<br>And o'er his head the open noose was cast.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Clutching with both his hands the bowline knot<br>Caught at his throat, swift drawn through fire he seemed,<br>Whelmed in the icy sea, and he forgot<br>Life, death, and all things, -- yet he thought he dreamed</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A dread voice cried, &quot;We've lost him!&quot; and a sting<br>Of anguish pierced his clouded senses through;<br>A moment more, and like a lifeless thing<br>He lay among the eager pitying crew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Long time he swooned, while o'er the ocean vast<br>The dead man tossed alone, they knew not where:<br>But youth and health triumphant were at last,<br>And here is Lars, you see, and here the fair</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Young snow-and-rose-bloom maiden he will wed.<br>His face is kindly, thought it seems so stern.<br>Death passed him by, and life begins instead,<br>For Thora sweet and Lars the taciturn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Celia+Thaxter">Celia Thaxter</a><div class=q>
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The daughters of the West, whose eyes had seen
For the first time the circling sea, instead
Of the blown prairie's waves of grassy green:

&quot;Tell us of wreck and peril, storm and cold,
Wil..."></div>
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