<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374032" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>From The Italian</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">AS a little child whom his mother has chidden,<br>Wrecked in the dark in a storm of weeping,<br>Sleeps with his tear-stained eyes closed hidden<br>And, with fists clenched, sobs still in his sleeping,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So in my breast sleeps Love, O white lady,<br>What does he care though the rest are playing,<br>With rattles and drums in the woodlands shady,<br>Happy children, whom Joy takes maying!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, do not wake him, lest you should hear him<br>Scolding the others, breaking their rattles,<br>Smashing their drums, when their play comes near him--<br>Love who, for me, is a god of battles!</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> <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=374032" data-title="From The Italian de Edith Nesbit" data-description="AS a little child whom his mother has chidden, Wrecked in the dark in a storm of weeping, Sleeps with his tear-stained eyes closed hidden And, with fists clenched, sobs still in his sleeping, So in my breast sleeps Love, O white lady, What does h..."></div> </div> </div>

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