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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=386515" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Blue Bell</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The blue bell is the sweetest flower<br>That waves in summer air;<br>Its blossoms have the mightiest power<br>To soothe my spirit's care. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is a spell in purple heath<br>Too wildly, sadly dear;<br>The violet has a fragrant breath<br>But fragrance will not cheer. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The trees are bare, the sun is cold;<br>And seldom, seldom seen;<br>The heavens have lost their zone of gold<br>The earth its robe of green; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And ice upon the glancing stream<br>Has cast its sombre shade<br>And distant hills and valleys seem<br>In frozen mist arrayed -</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The blue bell cannot charm me now<br>The heath has lost its bloom,<br>The violets in the glen below<br>They yield no sweet perfume. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But though I mourn the heather-bell<br>'Tis better far, away;<br>I know how fast my tears would swell<br>To see it smile today; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And that wood flower that hides so shy<br>Beneath the mossy stone<br>Its balmy scent and dewy eye:<br>'Tis not for them I moan. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is the slight and stately stem,<br>The blossom's silvery blue,<br>The buds hid like a sapphire gem<br>In sheaths of emerald hue. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tis these that breathe upon my heart<br>A calm and softening spell<br>That if it makes the tear-drop start<br>Has power to soothe as well. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">For these I weep, so long divided<br>Through winter's dreary day,<br>In longing weep--but most when guided<br>On withered banks to stray. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">If chilly then the light should fall<br>Adown the dreary sky<br>And gild the dank and darkened wall<br>With transient brilliancy, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">How do I yearn, how do I pine<br>For the time of flowers to come,<br>And turn me from that fading shine<br>To mourn the fields of home -</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>
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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=386515" data-title="The Blue Bell de Emily Jane Brontë" data-description="The blue bell is the sweetest flower
That waves in summer air;
Its blossoms have the mightiest power
To soothe my spirit's care. 

There is a spell in purple heath
Too wildly, sadly dear;
The violet has a fragrant breath
But fragrance will not che..."></div>
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