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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=373975" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Star In The East</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">FOR THE ART EXHIBITION AT ST. JUDE'S, WHITECHAPEL</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LIKE a fair flower springing fresh, sweet, and bright, <br>Through prison stones; or like one perfect song <br>Heard in a dream on one remembered night, <br>When waking worlds were dumb with grief and wrong; <br>Like the one kiss that links--first kiss and last-- <br>The inevitable future spent apart <br>With the immutable divided past: <br>So in the east shines out this star of Art. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The narrow-shouldered, pale-faced girl and boy <br>Nestle against Art's new-found, love-warm breast, <br>And feel vague stirrings of a far-off joy, <br>Which life has never for themselves possessed, <br>And dimly guess at wonders hardly known-- <br>Even as dreams--and weep glad tears to see <br>A loveliness that is at once life's own, <br>And yet is something life can never be. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not worse will work the flying busy hand <br>Because the soul has drunk a cup of pleasure, <br>Has picked up on its leaden-coloured strand <br>Some little jewel of Art's splendid treasure, <br>Nor will less work be done because men see <br>That work is not the only thing in life, <br>Because they have been glad at heart and free <br>A little space 'mid sorrow, sin, and strife. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And this sweet draught may banish men's content? <br>For this we pray and strive--not all in vain-- <br>That men may reach such heights of discontent <br>As never to fall back to peace again <br>Where no peace is--nor rest from strife and prayers, <br>But tread firm-footed up the thorny way, <br>Till all that spring of art and joy is theirs <br>Whereof they taste so small a draught to-day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edith+Nesbit">Edith Nesbit</a><div class=q>
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LIKE a fair flower springing fresh, sweet, and bright, 
Through prison stones; or like one perfect song 
Heard in a dream on one remembered night, 
When waking worlds were dumb with grief and wron..."></div>
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