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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374320" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>April Byeway</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Friend whom I never saw, yet dearest friend,<br>Be with me travelling on the byeway now<br>In April's month and mood: our steps shall bend<br>By the shut smithy with its penthouse brow<br>Armed round with many a felly and crackt plough:<br>And we will mark in his white smock the mill<br>Standing aloof, long numbed to any wind,<br>That in his crannies mourns, and craves him still;<br>But now there is not any grain to grind,<br>And even the master lies too deep for winds to find.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Grieve not at these: for there are mills amain<br>With lusty sails that leap and drop away<br>On further knolls, and lads to fetch the grain.<br>The ash-spit wickets on the green betray<br>New games begun and old ones put away.<br>Let us fare on, dead friend, O deathless friend,<br>Where under his old hat as green as moss<br>The hedger chops and finds new gaps to mend,<br>And on his bonfires burns the thorns and dross,<br>And hums a hymn, the best, thinks he, that ever was.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There the grey guinea-fowl stands in the way,<br>The young black heifer and the raw-ribbed mare,<br>And scorn to move for tumbril or for dray,<br>And feel themselves as good as farmers there.<br>From the young corn the prick-eared leverets stare<br>At strangers come to spy the land — small sirs,<br>We bring less danger than the very breeze<br>Who in great zig-zag blows the bee, and whirs<br>In bluebell shadow down the bright green leas;<br>From whom in frolic fit the chopt straw darts and flees.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The cornel steepling up in white shall know<br>The two friends passing by, and poplar smile<br>All gold within; the church-top fowl shall glow<br>To lure us on, and we shall rest awhile<br>Where the wild apple blooms above the stile;<br>The yellow frog beneath blinks up half bold,<br>Then scares himself into the deeper green.<br>And thus spring was for you in days of old,<br>And thus will be when I too walk unseen<br>By one that thinks me friend, the best that there has been.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All our lone journey laughs for joy, the hours<br>Like honey-bees go home in new-found light<br>Past the cow pond amazed with twinkling flowers<br>And antique chalk-pit newly delved to white,<br>Or idle snow-plough nearly hid from sight.<br>The blackbird sings us home, on a sudden peers<br>The round tower hung with ivy's blackened chains,<br>Then past the little green the byeway veers,<br>The mill-sweeps torn, the forge with cobwebbed panes<br>That have so many years looked out across the plains.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But the old forge and mill are shut and done,<br>The tower is crumbling down, stone by stone falls;<br>An ague doubt comes creeping in the sun,<br>The sun himself shudders, the day appals,<br>The concourse of a thousand tempests sprawls<br>Over the blue-lipped lakes and maddening groves,<br>Like agonies of gods the clouds are whirled,<br>The stormwind like the demon huntsman roves —<br>Still stands my friend, though all's to chaos hurled,<br>The unseen friend, the one last friend in all the world.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edmund+Blunden">Edmund Blunden</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=374320" data-title="April Byeway de Edmund Blunden" data-description="Friend whom I never saw, yet dearest friend,
Be with me travelling on the byeway now
In April's month and mood: our steps shall bend
By the shut smithy with its penthouse brow
Armed round with many a felly and crackt plough:
And we will mark in hi..."></div>
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