<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=386577" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>My english letter</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When each white moon, her lantern idly swinging, <br> Comes out to join the star night-watching band, <br>Across the grey-green sea, a ship is bringing <br> For me a letter, from the Motherland. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Naught would I care to live in quaint old Britain, <br> These wilder shores are dearer far to me, <br>Yet when I read the words that hand has written, <br> The parent sod more precious seems to be. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Within that folded note I catch the savour <br> Of climes that make the Motherland so fair, <br>Although I never knew the blessed favour <br> That surely lies in breathing English air. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Imagination's brush before me fleeing, <br> Paints English pictures, though my longing eyes <br>Have never known the blessedness of seeing <br> The blue that lines the arch of English skies. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And yet my letter brings the scenes I covet, <br> Framed in the salt sea winds, aye more in dreams <br>I almost see the face that bent above it, <br> I almost touch that hand, so near it seems. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Near, for the very grey-green sea that dashes <br> 'Round these Canadian coasts, rolls out once more <br>To Eastward, and the same Atlantic splashes <br> Her wild white spray on England's distant shore. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Near, for the same young moon so idly swinging <br> Her threadlike crescent bends the selfsame smile <br>On that old land from whence a ship is bringing <br> My message from the transatlantic Isle. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus loves my heart that far old country better, <br> Because of those dear words that always come, <br>With love enfolded in each English letter <br> That drifts into my sun-kissed Western home.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Emily+Pauline+Johnson">Emily Pauline Johnson</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=386577" data-title="My english letter de Emily Pauline Johnson" data-description="When each white moon, her lantern idly swinging, Comes out to join the star night-watching band, Across the grey-green sea, a ship is bringing For me a letter, from the Motherland. Naught would I care to live in quaint old Britain, These ..."></div> </div> </div>

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