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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=384497" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>My Comrade</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Out from my window westward <br>I turn full oft my face; <br>But the mountains rebuke the vision <br>That would encompass space; <br>They lift their lofty foreheads <br>To the kiss of the clouds above, <br>And ask, &quot;With all our glory, <br>Can we not win your love?&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I answer, &quot;No, oh mountains! <br>I see that you are grand; <br>But you have not the breadth and beauty <br>Of the fields in my own land; <br>You narrow my range of vision <br>And you even shut from me <br>The voice of my old comrade, <br>The West Wind wild and free.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But to-day I climbed the mountains <br>On the back of a snow-white steed, <br>And the West Wind came to greet me-- <br>He flew on the wings of speed. <br>His charger, and mine that bore me, <br>Went gaily neck to neck, <br>Till the town in the valley belkow us <br>Looked like a small, dark speck.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And oh! what tales he whispered <br>As he rode there by me, <br>Of friends whose smiling faces <br>I am so soon to see. <br>And the mountains frowned in anger, <br>Because I balked their spite, <br>And met my old-time comrade <br>There on their very height;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But I laughed up in their faces, <br>As I rode slowly back, <br>While the Wind went faster and faster, <br>Like a race-horse on the track.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ella+Wheeler+Wilcox">Ella Wheeler Wilcox</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=384497" data-title="My Comrade de Ella Wheeler Wilcox" data-description="Out from my window westward 
I turn full oft my face; 
But the mountains rebuke the vision 
That would encompass space; 
They lift their lofty foreheads 
To the kiss of the clouds above, 
And ask, &quot;With all our glory, 
Can we not win your lov..."></div>
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