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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=368513" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Constancy In Inconstancy</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">An Old Man’s Confession </div><div style="margin:10px 0">SHE has a large still heart--this lady of mine, <br>(Not mine, i'faith! nor would I that she were <br>She walks this world of ours like Grecian nymph, <br>Pure with a marble pureness, moving on <br>Among the herd of men, environed round <br>With native airs of deep Olympian calm. <br>I have a great love for that lady of mine: <br>I like to watch her motions, trick of face, <br>And turn of thought, when speaking high and wise <br>The tongue of gods, not men. Ay, every day, <br>And twenty times a day, I start to catch <br>Some look or gesture of familiar mould, <br>And then my panting soul leans forth to her <br>Like some sick traveller who astonied sees <br>Gliding across the distant twilight fields-- <br>His lovely, lost, beloved memory-fields-- <br>The shadowy people of an earlier world. <br>I have a friend, how dearly liked, heart-warm, <br>Did I confess, sure she and all would smile: <br>I watch her as she steals in some dull room <br>That brightens at her entrance--slow lets fall <br>A word or two of wise simplicity, <br>Then goes, and at her going all seems dark. <br>Little she knows this: little thinks each brow <br>Lightens, each heart grows purer with her eyes, <br>Good, honest eyes--clear, upward, righteous eyes, <br>That look as if they saw the dim unseen, <br>And learnt from thence their deep compassionate calm. <br>Why do I precious hold this friend of mine? <br>Why in our talks, our quiet fireside talks, <br>When we, two earnest travellers through the dark, <br>Grasp at the guiding threads that homeward lead, <br>Seems it another soul than hers looks out <br>From these her eyes?--until I ofttimes start <br>And quiver, as when some soft ignorant hand <br>Touches the barb hid in a long-healed wound/ <br>Yet still no blame, but thanks to thee, dear friend, <br>Ay, even when we wander back at eve, <br>They careless arm loose linked within my own-- <br>The same height as I gaze down--nay, the hair <br>Her very color--fluttering 'neath the stars-- <br>The same large stars which lit that earlier world. <br>I have another love--whose dewy looks <br>Are fresh with life's young dawn. I prophesy <br>The streak of light now trembling on the hills <br>Will broaden out into a glorious day. <br>Thou sweet one, meek as good, and good as fair, <br>Wise as a woman, harmless as a child, <br>I love thee well! And yet not thee, not thee, <br>God knows--they know who sit among the stars. <br>As one whose sun was darkened before noon, <br>Creeps patiently along the twilight lands, <br>Sees glow-worms, meteors, or tapers kind <br>Of an hour's burning, stops awhile to mark, <br>Thanks heaven for them, but never calls them day-- <br>So love I these, and more. Yet thou, my sun, <br>Who rose, leaped to thy zenith, sat there throned, <br>And made the whole earth day--look, if thou canst, <br>Out of thy veilèd glory, and behold <br>How all these lesser lights but come and go, <br>Mere reflexes of thee. Be it so! I keep <br>My face unto the eastward, where thou stand'st-- <br>I know thou stand'st--behind the purpling hills, <br>And I shall wake and find morn in the world.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Dinah+Maria+Mulock+Craik">Dinah Maria Mulock Craik</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=368513" data-title="Constancy In Inconstancy de Dinah Maria Mulock Craik" data-description="An Old Man’s Confession 

SHE has a large still heart--this lady of mine, 
(Not mine, i'faith! nor would I that she were 
She walks this world of ours like Grecian nymph, 
Pure with a marble pureness, moving on 
Among the herd of men, environed ..."></div>
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