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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355514" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Horologe Of The Fields</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Addressed to a Young Lady, on seeing at the House of an<br>Acquaintance a magnificent French Timepiece. <br>FOR her who owns this splendid toy, <br>Where use with elegance unites, <br>Still may its index point to joy, <br>And moments wing'd with new delights. <br>Sweet may resound each silver bell, <br>And never quick returning chime, <br>Seem in reproving notes to tell, <br>Of hours mispent, and murder'd time. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Tho' Fortune, Emily, deny <br>To us these splendid works of art, <br>The woods, the lawns, the heaths supply <br>Lessons from Nature to the heart. <br>In every copse, and shelter'd dell, <br>Unveil'd to the observant eye, <br>Are faithful monitors, who tell <br>How pass the hours and seasons by. <br>The green robed children of the Spring <br>Will mark the periods as they pass, <br>Mingle with leaves Time's feather'd wing, <br>And bind with flowers his silent glass. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mark where transparent waters glide, <br>Soft flowing o'er their tranquil bed; <br>There, cradled on the dimpling tide, <br>Nymphæa rests her lovely head. <br>But conscious of the earliest beam, <br>She rises from her humid rest, <br>And sees reflected in the stream <br>The virgin whiteness of her breast. <br>Till the bright daystar to the west <br>Declines, in Ocean's surge to lave, <br>Then folded in her modest vest, <br>She slumbers on the rocking wave. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">See Hieracium's various tribe, <br>Of plumy seed and radiate flowers, <br>The course of Time their blooms describe <br>And wake or sleep appointed hours. <br>Broad o'er its imbricated cup <br>The Goatsbeard spreads its golden rays, <br>But shuts its cautious petals up, <br>Retreating from the noon-tide blaze: <br>Pale as a pensive cloister'd nun <br>The Bethlem-star, her face unveils, <br>When o'er the mountain peers the Sun, <br>But shades it from the vesper gales. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Among the loose and arid sands <br>The humble Arenaria creeps; <br>Slowly the purple star expands, <br>But soon within its calyx sleeps. <br>And those small bells so lightly ray'd <br>With young Aurora's rosy hue, <br>Are to the noon-tide Sun display'd, <br>But shut their plaits against the dew. <br>On upland slopes the shepherds mark <br>The hour, when as the dial true, <br>Cichorium to the towering Lark, <br>Lifts her soft eyes, serenely blue. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And thou 'Wee crimson tipped flower,' <br>Gatherest thy fringed mantle round <br>Thy bosom, at the closing hour, <br>When night drops bathe the turfy ground. <br>Unlike Silene, who declines <br>The garish noontide's blazing light; <br>But when the evening crescent shines <br>Gives all her sweetness to the night. <br>Thus in each flower and simple bell, <br>That in our path untrodden lie, <br>Are sweet remembrancers who tell <br>How fast the winged moments fly. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Time will steal on with ceaseless pace, <br>Yet lose we not the fleeting hours, <br>Who still their fairy footsteps trace, <br>As light they dance among the flowers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charlotte+Smith">Charlotte Smith</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=355514" data-title="The Horologe Of The Fields de Charlotte Smith" data-description="Addressed to a Young Lady, on seeing at the House of an
Acquaintance a magnificent French Timepiece. 
FOR her who owns this splendid toy, 
Where use with elegance unites, 
Still may its index point to joy, 
And moments wing'd with new delights. 
S..."></div>
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