Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=386488" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Loud Without the Wind Was Roaring</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Loud without the wind was roaring<br> Through th' autumnal sky;<br>Drenching wet, the cold rain pouring,<br> Spoke of winter nigh.<br> All too like that dreary eve,<br> Did my exiled spirit grieve.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Grieved at first, but grieved not long,<br> Sweet—how softly sweet!—it came;<br>Wild words of an ancient song,<br> Undefined, without a name.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'It was spring, and the skylark was singing';<br> Those words they awakened a spell;<br>They unlocked a deep fountain, whose springing,<br> Nor absence, nor distance can quell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the gloom of a cloudy November<br> They uttered the music of May;<br>They kindled the perishing ember<br> Into fervour that could not decay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Awaken, o'er all my dear moorland,<br> West-wind, in thy glory and pride!<br>Oh! call me from valley and lowland,<br> To walk by the hill-torrent's side!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is swelled with the first snowy weather;<br> The rocks they are icy and hoar,<br>And sullenly waves the long heather,<br> And the fern leaves are sunny no more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There are no yellow stars on the mountain<br> The bluebells have long died away<br>From the brink of the moss-bedded fountain—<br> From the side of the wintry brae.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But lovelier than corn-fields all waving<br> In emerald, and vermeil, and gold,<br>Are the heights where the north-wind is raving,<br> And the crags where I wandered of old.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was morning: the bright sun was beaming;<br> How sweetly it brought back to me<br>The time when nor labour nor dreaming<br> Broke the sleep of the happy and free!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But blithely we rose as the dawn-heaven<br> Was melting to amber and blue,<br>And swift were the wings to our feet given,<br> As we traversed the meadows of dew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For the moors! For the moors, where the short grass<br> Like velvet beneath us should lie!<br>For the moors! For the moors, where each high pass<br> Rose sunny against the clear sky!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For the moors, where the linnet was trilling<br> Its song on the old granite stone;<br>Where the lark, the wild sky-lark, was filling<br> Every breast with delight like its own!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What language can utter the feeling<br> Which rose, when in exile afar,<br>On the brow of a lonely hill kneeling,<br> I saw the brown heath growing there?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was scattered and stunted, and told me<br> That soon even that would be gone:<br>It whispered, 'The grim walls enfold me,<br> I have bloomed in my last summer's sun.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But not the loved music, whose waking<br> Makes the soul of the Swiss die away,<br>Has a spell more adored and heartbreaking<br> Than, for me, in that blighted heath lay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The spirit which bent 'neath its power,<br> How it longed—how it burned to be free!<br>If I could have wept in that hour,<br> Those tears had been heaven to me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well—well; the sad minutes are moving,<br> Though loaded with trouble and pain;<br>And some time the loved and the loving<br> Shall meet on the mountains again!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Emily+Jane+Bront%C3%AB">Emily Jane Brontë</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=386488" data-title="Loud Without the Wind Was Roaring de Emily Jane Brontë" data-description="Loud without the wind was roaring
 Through th' autumnal sky;
Drenching wet, the cold rain pouring,
 Spoke of winter nigh.
 All too like that dreary eve,
 Did my exiled spirit grieve.

Grieved at first, but grieved not long,
 Sweet—how softly swe..."></div>
</div>
</div>