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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=360807" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Stream's Secret</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">What thing unto mine ear<br>Wouldst thou convey,--what secret thing,<br>O wandering water ever whispering?<br>Surely thy speech shall be of her.<br>Thou water, O thou whispering wanderer, <br>What message dost thou bring? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Say, hath not Love leaned low<br>This hour beside thy far well-head,<br>And there through jealous hollowed fingers said<br>The thing that most I long to know--<br>Murmuring with curls all dabbled in thy flow <br>And washed lips rosy red? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He told it to thee there<br>Where thy voice hath a louder tone;<br>But where it welters to this little moan<br>His will decrees that I should hear.<br>Now speak: for with the silence is no fear, <br>And I am all alone. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shall Time not still endow<br>One hour with life, and I and she <br>Slake in one kiss the thirst of memory?<br>Say, streams, lest Love should disavow<br>Thy service, and the bird upon the bough<br>Sing first to tell it me. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">What whisperest thou? Nay, why<br>Name the dead hours? I mind them well.<br>Their ghosts in many darkened doorways dwell<br>With desolate eyes to know them by.<br>That hour must still be born ere it can die<br>Of that I'd have thee tell. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But hear, before thou speak!<br>Withhold, I pray, the vain behest<br>That while the maze hath still its bower for quest<br>My burning heart should cease to seek.<br>Be sure that Love ordained for souls more meek<br>His roadside dells of rest. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Stream, when this silver thread<br>In flood-time is a torrent brown,<br>May any bulwark bind thy foaming crown?<br>Shall not the waters surge and spread<br>And to the crannied boulders of their bed<br>Still shoot the dead drift down </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let no rebuke find place<br>In speech of thine: or it shall prove<br>That thou dost ill expound the words of Love.<br>Even as thine eddy's rippling race<br>Would blur the perfect image of his face<br>I will have none thereof. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">O learn and understand<br>That 'gainst the wrongs himself did wreak<br>Love sought her aid; until her shadowy cheek<br>And eyes beseeching gave command;<br>And compassed in her close compassionate hand<br>My heart must burn and speak. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">For then at last we spoke<br>What eyes so oft had told to eyes<br>Through that long-lingering silence whose half-sighs<br>Alone the buried secret broke,<br>Which with snatched hands and lips' reverberate stroke<br>Then from the heart did rise. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But she is far away<br>Now; nor the hours of night grown hoar<br>Bring yet to me, long gazing from the door,<br>The wind-stirred robe of roseate gray<br>And rose-crown of the hour that leads the day<br>When we shall meet once more. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dark as thy blinded wave<br>When brimming midnight floods the glen,--<br>Bright as the laughter of thy runnels when<br>The dawn yields all the light they crave;<br>Even so these hours to wound and that to save <br>Are sisters in Love's ken. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh sweet her bending grace<br>Then when I kneel beside her feet;<br>And sweet her eyes' o'erhanging heaven; and sweet<br>The gathering folds of her embrace;<br>And her fall'n hair at last shed round my face<br>When breaths and tears shall meet. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beneath her sheltering hair,<br>In the warm silence near her breast, <br>Our kisses and our sobs shall sink to rest;<br>As in some still trance made aware<br>That day and night have wrought to fulness there <br>And Love has built our nest. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And as in the dim grove,<br>When the rains cease that hushed them long,<br>'Mid glistening boughs the song-birds wake to song,--<br>So from our hearts deep-shrined in love,<br>While the leaves throb beneath, around, above,<br>The quivering notes shall throng. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till tenderest words found vain<br>Draw back to wonder mute and deep,<br>And closed lips in closed arms a silence keep,<br>Subdued by memory's circling strain,--<br>The wind-rapt sound that the wind brings again<br>While all the willows weep. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then by her summoning art<br>Shall memory conjure back the sere<br>Autumnal Springs, from many a dying year<br>Born dead; and, bitter to the heart,<br>The very ways where now we walk apart<br>Who then shall cling so near. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And with each thought new-grown,<br>Some sweet caress or some sweet name<br>Low-breathed shall let me know her thought the same:<br>Making me rich with every tone<br>And touch of the dear heaven so long unknown <br>That filled my dreams with flame. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Pity and love shall burn<br>In her pressed cheek and cherishing hands;<br>And from the living spirit of love that stands<br>Between her lips to soothe and yearn,<br>Each separate breath shall clasp me round in turn<br>And loose my spirit's bands. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh passing sweet and dear,<br>Then when the worshipped form and face<br>Are felt at length in darkling close embrace;<br>Round which so oft the sun shone clear,<br>With mocking light and pitiless atmosphere,<br>In many an hour and place. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah me! with what proud growth<br>Shall that hour's thirsting race be run;<br>While, for each several sweetness still begun<br>Afresh, endures love's endless drouth;<br>Sweet hands, sweet hair, sweet cheeks, sweet eyes, sweet mouth,<br>Each singly wooed and won. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet most with the sweet soul<br>Shall love's espousals then be knit;<br>What time the governing cloud sheds peace from it<br>O'er tremulous wings that touch the goal,<br>And on the unmeasured height of Love's control <br>The lustral fires are lit. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Therefore, when breast and cheek<br>Now part, from long embraces free,--<br>Each on the other gazing shall but see<br>A self that has no need to speak:<br>All things unsought, yet nothing more to seek,--<br>One love in unity. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">O water wandering past,--<br>Albeit to thee I speak this thing, <br>O water, thou that wanderest whispering,<br>Thou keep'st thy counsel to the last.<br>What spell upon thy bosom should Love cast,<br>Its secret thence to wring? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nay, must thou hear the tale<br>Of the past days,--the heavy debt<br>Of life that obdurate time withholds,--ere yet<br>To win thine ear these prayers prevail,<br>And by thy voice Love's self with high All-hail<br>Yield up the amulet? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">How should all this be told?--<br>All the sad sum of wayworn days,--<br>Heart's anguish in the impenetrable maze;<br>And on the waste uncoloured wold<br>The visible burthen of the sun grown cold<br>And the moon's labouring gaze? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alas! shall hope be nurs'd<br>On life's all-succouring breast in vain,<br>And made so perfect only to be slain?<br>Or shall not rather the sweet thirst<br>Even yet rejoice the heart with warmth dispers'd<br>And strength grown fair again? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Stands it not by the door!--<br>Love's Hour--Till she and I shall meet<br>With bodiless form and unapparent feet<br>That cast no shadow yet before,<br>Though round its head the dawn begins to pour <br>The breath that makes day sweet? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Its eyes invisible<br>Watch till the dial's thin-thrown shade<br>Be born,--yea, till the journeying line be laid<br>Upon the point that wakes the spell,<br>And there in lovelier light than tongue can tell <br>Its presence stands array'd. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Its soul remembers yet<br>Those sunless hours that passed it by;<br>And still it hears the night's disconsolate cry,<br>And feels the branches wringing wet<br>Cast on its brow, that may not once forget, <br>Dumb tears from the blind sky. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But oh! when now her foot<br>Draws near, for whose sake night and day<br>Were long in weary longing sighed away,--<br>The hour of Love, 'mid airs grown mute,<br>Shall sing beside the door, and Love's own lute <br>Thrill to the passionate lay. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou know'st, for Love has told<br>Within thine ear, O stream, how soon<br>That song shall lift its sweet appointed tune.<br>O tell me, for my lips are cold,<br>And in my veins the blood is waxing old<br>Even while I beg the boon. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So, in that hour of sighs<br>Assuaged, shall we beside this stone<br>Yield thanks for grace; while in thy mirror shown<br>The twofold image softly lies,<br>Until we kiss, and each in other's eyes <br>Is imaged all alone. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Still silent? Can no art<br>Of Love's then move thy pity? Nay,<br>To thee let nothing come that owns his sway:<br>Let happy lovers have no part<br>With thee; nor even so sad and poor a heart <br>As thou hast spurned to-day. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">To-day? Lo! night is here.<br>The glen grows heavy with some veil<br>Risen from the earth or fall'n to make earth pale;<br>And all stands hushed to eye and ear,<br>Until the night-wind shake the shade like fear <br>And every covert quail. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! by another wave<br>On other airs the hour must come<br>Which to thy heart, my love, shall call me home.<br>Between the lips of the low cave<br>Against that night the lapping waters lave, <br>And the dark lips are dumb. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But there Love's self doth stand,<br>And with Life's weary wings far flown,<br>And with Death's eyes that make the water moan,<br>Gathers the water in his hand: <br>And they that drink know nought of sky or land <br>But only love alone. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">O soul-sequestered face<br>Far off,--O were that night but now!<br>So even beside that stream even I and thou<br>Through thirsting lips should draw Love's grace,<br>And in the zone of that supreme embrace <br>Bind aching breast and brow. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">O water whispering<br>Still through the dark into mine ears,--<br>As with mine eyes, is it not now with hers?--<br>Mine eyes that add to thy cold spring,<br>Wan water, wandering water weltering, <br>This hidden tide of tears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Dante+Gabriel+Rossetti">Dante Gabriel 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=360807" data-title="The Stream's Secret de Dante Gabriel Rossetti" data-description="What thing unto mine ear
Wouldst thou convey,--what secret thing,
O wandering water ever whispering?
Surely thy speech shall be of her.
Thou water, O thou whispering wanderer, 
What message dost thou bring? 

Say, hath not Love leaned low
This hou..."></div>
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