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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=384528" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Over The Alley</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here in my office I sit and write<br> Hour on hour, and day on day, <br>With no one to speak to from morn till night, <br> Though I have a neighbour just over the way.<br>Across the alley that yawns between<br> A maiden sits sewing the whole day long; <br>A face more lovely is seldom seen<br> In hall or castle or country throng.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her curling tresses are golden brown; <br> Her eyes, I think, are violet blue, <br>Though her long, thick lashes are always down, <br> Jealously hiding the orbs from view; <br>Her neck is slender, and round, and white, <br> And this way and that way her soft hair blows, <br>As there in the window from morn till night, <br>She sits in her beauty, and sings and sews.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I in my office chair, lounge and dream, <br> In an idle way, of a sweet 'might be, '<br>While the maid at her window sews her seam, <br> With never a glance or a thought for me.<br>Perhaps she is angry because I look <br> So long and so often across the way, <br>Over the top of my ledger-book; <br> But those stolen glances brighten the day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I am blameless of any wrong; -<br> She is the transgressor, by sitting there<br>And making my eyes turn oft and long<br> To a face so delicate, pure and fair.<br>Work is forgotten; the page lies clean, <br> Untouched by the pen, while hours go by.<br>Oh, maid of the pensive air and mien! <br> Give me one glance of your violet eye.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Drop your thimble or spool of thread<br> Down in the alley, I pray, my sweet, <br>Or the comb or ribbon from that fair head, <br> That I may follow with nimble feet; <br>For how can I tell you my heart has gone<br> Across the alley, and lingers there, <br>Till I know your name, my beautiful one? <br> How could I venture, and how could I dare? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Just one day longer I'll wait and dream, <br> And then, if you grant me no other way, <br>I shall write you a letter: 'Maid of the seam, <br> You have stolen my property; now give pay, <br>Beautiful robber and charming thief! <br> Give me one glance for the deed you've done.'<br>Thus shall I tell you my loss and grief, <br> Over the alley, my beautiful one.</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=384528" data-title="Over The Alley de Ella Wheeler Wilcox" data-description="Here in my office I sit and write
 Hour on hour, and day on day, 
With no one to speak to from morn till night, 
 Though I have a neighbour just over the way.
Across the alley that yawns between
 A maiden sits sewing the whole day long; 
A face mo..."></div>
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