Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=367935" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Tree Telling of Orpheus</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">White dawn. Stillness.When the rippling began<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I took it for sea-wind, coming to our valley with rumors<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nb sp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;of salt, of treeless horizons. But the white fog<br>didn't stir; the leaves of my brothers remained outstretched,<br>unmoving.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nb sp;Yet the rippling drew nearer – and then<br>my own outermost branches began to tingle, almost as if<br>fire had been lit below them, too close, and their twig-tips<br>were drying and curling.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nb sp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Yet I was not afraid, only<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;deeply alert.<br>I was the first to see him, for I grew<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;out on the pasture slope, beyond the forest.<br>He was a man, it seemed: the two<br>moving stems, the short trunk, the two<br>arm-branches, flexible, each with five leafless<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nb sp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;&nbsp;twigs at their ends,<br>and the head that's crowned by brown or golden grass,<br>bearing a face not like the beaked face of a bird,<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;more like a flower's.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He carried a burden made of<br>some cut branch bent while it was green,<br>strands of a vine tight-stretched across it. From this,<br>when he touched it, and from his voice<br>which unlike the wind's voice had no need of our<br>leaves and branches to complete its sound,<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nb sp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;came the ripple.<br>But it was now no longer a ripple (he had come near and <br>stopped in my first shadow) it was a wave that bathed me<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;as if rain<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;rose from below and around me<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;instead of falling.<br>And what I felt was no longer a dry tingling:<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I seemed to be singing as he sang, I seemed to know<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;what the lark knows; all my sap<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;was mounting towards the sun that by now<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;had risen, the mist was rising, the grass<br>was drying, yet my roots felt music moisten them<br>deep under earth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He came still closer, leaned on my trunk:<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nb sp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;the bark thrilled like a leaf still-folded.<br>Music! There was no twig of me not<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;trembling with joy and fear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then as he sang<br>it was no longer sounds only that made the music:<br>he spoke, and as no tree listens I listened, and language<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;came into my roots<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;out of the earth,<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nb sp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;into my bark<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;out of the air,<br>into the pores of my greenest shoots<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nb sp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;gently as dew<br>and there was no word he sang but I knew its meaning.<br>He told me of journeys,<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;of where sun and moon go while we stand in dark,<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;of an earth-journey he dreamed he would take some day<br>deeper than roots ...<br>He told of the dreams of man, wars, passions, griefs,<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;and I, a tree, understood words – ah, it seemed<br>my thick bark would split like a sapling's that<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;grew too fast in the spring<br>when a late frost wounds it.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nb sp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;Fire he sang,<br>that trees fear, and I, a tree, rejoiced in its flames.<br>New buds broke forth from me though it was full summer.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;As though his lyre (now I knew its name)<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;were both frost and fire, its chords flamed<br>up to the crown of me.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I was seed again.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nb sp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I was fern in the swamp.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nb sp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;I was coal.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Denise+Levertov">Denise Levertov</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<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=367935" data-title="A Tree Telling of Orpheus de Denise Levertov" data-description="White dawn. Stillness.When the rippling began
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I took it for sea-wind, coming to our valley with rumors
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nb sp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;of salt, of treeless h..."></div>
</div>
</div>