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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=373427" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>From Shadow</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now the November skies,<br>And the clouds that are thin and gray,<br>That drop with the wind away;<br>A flood of sunlight rolls,<br>In a tide of shallow light,<br>Gold on the land and white<br>On the water, dim and warm in the wood;<br>Then it is gone, and the wan<br>Clear of the shade<br>Covers fields and barren and glade.<br>The peace of labor done,<br>Is wide in the gracious earth;<br>The harvest is won;<br>Past are the tears and the mirth;<br>And we feel in the tenuous air <br>How far beyond thought or prayer<br>Is the grace of silent things,<br>That work for the world alway,<br>Neither for fear nor for pay,<br>And when labor is over, rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The moil of our fretted life<br>Is borne anew to the soul,<br>Borne with its cark and strife,<br>Its burden of care and dread,<br>Its glories elusive and strange;<br>And the weight of the weary whole<br>Presses it down, till we cry:<br>Where is the fruit of our deeds?<br>Why should we struggle to build<br>Towers against death on the plain?<br>All things possess their lives<br>Save man, whose task and desire<br>Transcend his power and his will.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The question is over and still;<br>Nothing replies: but the earth <br>Takes on a lovelier hue<br>From a cloud that neighbored the sun,<br>That the sun burned down and through,<br>Till it glowed like a seraph's wing;<br>The fields that were gray and dun<br>Are warm in the flowing light;<br>Fair in the west the night <br>Strikes in with vibrant star.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Something has stirred afar<br>In the shadow that winter flings;<br>A message comes up to the soul<br>From the soul of inanimate things:<br>A message that widens and grows<br>Till it touches the deeds of man,<br>Till we see in the torturous throes<br>Some dawning glimmer of plan;<br>Till we feel in the deepening night <br>The hand of the angel Content,<br>That stranger of calmness and light,<br>With his brow over us bent,<br>Who moves with his eyes on the earth,<br>Whose robe of lambent green,<br>A tissue of herb and its sheen,<br>Tells the mother who gave him birth.<br>The message plays through his power,<br>Till it flames exultant in thought,<br>As the quince-tree triumphs in flower.<br>The fruit that is checked and marred<br>Goes under the sod:<br>The good lives here in the world;<br>It persists,-- it is God.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Duncan+Campbell+Scott">Duncan Campbell Scott</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=373427" data-title="From Shadow de Duncan Campbell Scott" data-description="Now the November skies,
And the clouds that are thin and gray,
That drop with the wind away;
A flood of sunlight rolls,
In a tide of shallow light,
Gold on the land and white
On the water, dim and warm in the wood;
Then it is gone, and the wan
Cle..."></div>
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