<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=384691" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Tendril’s Faith</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Under the snow in the dark and the cold, <br> A pale little sprout was humming; <br>Sweetly it sang, ‘neath the frozen mold, <br>Of the beautiful days that were coming.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“How foolish your songs, ” said a lump of clay, <br> “What is there, I ask, to prove them? <br>Just look at the walls between you and the day, <br> Now, have you the strength to move them? ”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But under the ice and under the snow<br> The pale little sprout kept singing, <br>“I cannot tell how, but I know, I know, <br> I know what the days are bringing.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Birds, and blossoms, and buzzing bees, <br> Blue, blue skies above me, <br>Bloom on the meadows and buds on the trees, <br> And the great glad sun to love me.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A pebble spoke next: “You are quite absurd.”<br> It said, “with your song’s insistence; <br>For I never saw a tree or a bird, <br> So of course there are none in existence.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“But I know, I know, ” the tendril cried, <br> In beautiful sweet unreason; <br>Till lo! from its prison, glorified, <br> It burst in the glad spring season.</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> <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=384691" data-title="The Tendril’s Faith de Ella Wheeler Wilcox" data-description="Under the snow in the dark and the cold, A pale little sprout was humming; Sweetly it sang, ‘neath the frozen mold, Of the beautiful days that were coming. “How foolish your songs, ” said a lump of clay, “What is there, I ask, to pr..."></div> </div> </div>

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