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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374804" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Living Picture</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">HE RODE along one splendid noon,<br>When all the hills were lit with Spring,<br>And through the bushland throbbed a croon<br>Of every living, hopeful thing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Between his teeth a rose he bore<br>As white as milk, and passing there<br>He tossed it with a laugh. I wore<br>It as it fell among my hair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No day a-drip with golden rain,<br>No heat with drench of wattle scent<br>Can touch the heart of me again<br>But with that young, sweet wonder blent.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We wed upon a gusty day,<br>When baffled fury whipped the sea;<br>And now I love the swift, wet play<br>Of wind and rain besetting me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I took white roses in my hand,<br>A white rose on my forehead shone,<br>For we had come to understand<br>White roses bloomed for us alone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When scarce a year had gone he sped<br>To fight the wars. With eyes grown grim<br>He kissed my lips, and whispering said:<br>“The world we must keep sweet for him!”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He wrote of war, the soldier’s life.<br>“’Tis hard, my dearest, but be brave.<br>I did not make my love my wife<br>To be the mother of a slave!”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My babe was born a boy. He had<br>His father’s eyes, his smile, his hair,<br>And, oh, my soul was brimming glad—<br>It seemed his father’s self was there!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But now came one who bade me still<br>In holy Heaven put my trust.<br>They’d laid my love beneath the hill,<br>And sealed his eyes with timeless dust.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Against my breast the babe I drew,<br>With strength from him to stay my fears.<br>I fought my fight the long days through;<br>He laughed and dabbled in my tears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">From my poor heart, at which it fed<br>With tiger teeth, I thrust despair,<br>And faced a world with shadow spread<br>And only echoes in the air.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The winter waned. One eve I went,<br>Led by a kindly hand to see<br>In moving scenes the churches rent,<br>The tumbled hill, the blasted lee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of soldiers resting by the road,<br>Who smoked and drowsed, a muddy rout,<br>One sprang alert, and forward strode,<br>With eager eyes to seek us out.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His fingers held a rose. He threw<br>The flower, and waved his cap. In me<br>A frenzy of assurance grew,<br>For, O dear God, ’twas he! ’twas he!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I called aloud. Aloft my child<br>I held, and nearer yet he came;<br>And when he understood and smiled,<br>My baby lisped his father’s name.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They say I fell like something dead,<br>But when I woke to morning’s glow<br>My boy sat by me on the bed,<br>And in his hand a rose of snow!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edward+George+Dyson">Edward George Dyson</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=374804" data-title="The Living Picture de Edward George Dyson" data-description="HE RODE along one splendid noon,
When all the hills were lit with Spring,
And through the bushland throbbed a croon
Of every living, hopeful thing.

Between his teeth a rose he bore
As white as milk, and passing there
He tossed it with a laugh. I ..."></div>
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