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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355934" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Farm Walk</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The year stood at its equinox<br>And bluff the North was blowing,<br>A bleat of lambs came from the flocks,<br>Green hardy things were growing;<br>I met a maid with shining locks<br>Where milky kine were lowing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She wore a kerchief on her neck,<br>Her bare arm showed its dimple,<br>Her apron spread without a speck,<br>Her air was frank and simple. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She milked into a wooden pail<br>And sang a country ditty,<br>An innocent fond lovers' tale,<br>That was not wise nor witty,<br>Pathetically rustical,<br>Too pointless for the city.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She kept in time without a beat<br>As true as church-bell ringers,<br>Unless she tapped time with her feet,<br>Or squeezed it with her fingers; <br>Her clear unstudied notes were sweet<br>As many a practised singer's.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I stood a minute out of sight,<br>Stood silent for a minute<br>To eye the pail, and creamy white<br>The frothing milk within it;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To eye the comely milking maid<br>Herself so fresh and creamy:<br>'Good day to you,' at last I said;<br>She turned her head to see me: <br>'Good day,' she said with lifted head;<br>Her eyes looked soft and dreamy,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And all the while she milked and milked<br>The grave cow heavy-laden:<br>I've seen grand ladies plumed and silked,<br>But not a sweeter maiden;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But not a sweeter fresher maid<br>Than this in homely cotton,<br>Whose pleasant face and silky braid<br>I have not yet forgotten. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Seven springs have passed since then, as I<br>Count with a sober sorrow;<br>Seven springs have come and passed me by,<br>And spring sets in to-morrow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I've half a mind to shake myself<br>Free just for once from London,<br>To set my work upon the shelf<br>And leave it done or undone;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To run down by the early train,<br>Whirl down with shriek and whistle, <br>And feel the bluff North blow again,<br>And mark the sprouting thistle<br>Set up on waste patch of the lane<br>Its green and tender bristle.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And spy the scarce-blown violet banks,<br>Crisp primrose leaves and others,<br>And watch the lambs leap at their pranks<br>And butt their patient mothers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alas, one point in all my plan<br>My serious thoughts demur to: <br>Seven years have passed for maid and man,<br>Seven years have passed for her too;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Perhaps my rose is overblown,<br>Not rosy or too rosy;<br>Perhaps in farmhouse of her own<br>Some husband keeps her cosy,<br>Where I should show a face unknown.<br>Good-bye, my wayside posy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Christina+Georgina+Rossetti">Christina Georgina Rossetti</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=355934" data-title="A Farm Walk de Christina Georgina Rossetti" data-description="The year stood at its equinox
And bluff the North was blowing,
A bleat of lambs came from the flocks,
Green hardy things were growing;
I met a maid with shining locks
Where milky kine were lowing.

She wore a kerchief on her neck,
Her bare arm sho..."></div>
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