<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=390104" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Breton Afternoon</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here, where the breath of the scented-gorse floats through the<br>sun-stained air,<br>On a steep hill-side, on a grassy ledge, I have lain hours long<br>and heard<br>Only the faint breeze pass in a whisper like a prayer,<br>And the river ripple by and the distant call of a bird.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On the lone hill-side, in the gold sunshine, I will hush me and<br>repose,<br>And the world fades into a dream and a spell is cast on me;<br>_And what was all the strife about, for the myrtle or the rose,<br>And why have I wept for a white girl's paleness passing ivory!_</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Out of the tumult of angry tongues, in a land alone, apart,<br>In a perfumed dream-land set betwixt the bounds of life and death,<br>Here will I lie while the clouds fly by and delve an hole where my<br>heart<br>May sleep deep down with the gorse above and red, red earth beneath.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sleep and be quiet for an afternoon, till the rose-white angelus<br>Softly steals my way from the village under the hill:<br>_Mother of God, O Misericord, look down in pity on us,<br>The weak and blind who stand in our light and wreak ourselves such ill_.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ernest+Christopher+Dowson">Ernest Christopher Dowson</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=390104" data-title="Breton Afternoon de Ernest Christopher Dowson" data-description="Here, where the breath of the scented-gorse floats through the sun-stained air, On a steep hill-side, on a grassy ledge, I have lain hours long and heard Only the faint breeze pass in a whisper like a prayer, And the river ripple by and the distan..."></div> </div> </div>

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