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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355132" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Mango-Tree</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">He wiled me through the furzy croft;<br>He wiled me down the sandy lane.<br>He told his boy's love, soft and oft,<br>Until I told him mine again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We married, and we sailed the main;<br>A soldier, and a soldier's wife.<br>We marched through many a burning plain;<br>We sighed for many a gallant life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But his-God kept it safe from harm.<br>He toiled, and dared, and earned command;<br>And those three stripes upon his arm<br>Were more to me than gold or land.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sure he would win some great renown:<br>Our lives were strong, our hearts were high.<br>One night the fever struck him down.<br>I sat, and stared, and saw him die.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I had his children-one, two, three.<br>One week I had them, blithe and sound.<br>The next-beneath this mango-tree,<br>By him in barrack burying-ground.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I sit beneath the mango-shade;<br>I live my five years' life all o'er-<br>Round yonder stems his children played;<br>He mounted guard at yonder door.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tis I, not they, am gone and dead.<br>They live; they know; they feel; they see.<br>Their spirits light the golden shade<br>Beneath the giant mango-tree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All things, save I, are full of life:<br>The minas, pluming velvet breasts;<br>The monkeys, in their foolish strife;<br>The swooping hawks, the swinging nests;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The lizards basking on the soil,<br>The butterflies who sun their wings;<br>The bees about their household toil,<br>They live, they love, the blissful things.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Each tender purple mango-shoot,<br>That folds and droops so bashful down;<br>It lives; it sucks some hidden root;<br>It rears at last a broad green crown.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It blossoms; and the children cry-<br>'Watch when the mango-apples fall.'<br>It lives: but rootless, fruitless, I-<br>I breathe and dream;-and that is all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus am I dead: yet cannot die:<br>But still within my foolish brain<br>There hangs a pale blue evening sky;<br>A furzy croft; a sandy lane.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>1870.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charles+Kingsley">Charles Kingsley</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=355132" data-title="The Mango-Tree de Charles Kingsley" data-description="He wiled me through the furzy croft;
He wiled me down the sandy lane.
He told his boy's love, soft and oft,
Until I told him mine again.

We married, and we sailed the main;
A soldier, and a soldier's wife.
We marched through many a burning plain;..."></div>
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