<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=390682" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Scenes One Sees</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I sat upon a dry stone wall, <br>And looked towards the distant hills, <br>The ferns around my feet grew tall, <br>Convolvulus too, with its long tendrils.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Down in the valley a church I spied, <br>With a weathervane atop its tower, <br>A solitary place, now unoccupied, <br>Whose clock did chime on every hour.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On the horizon sat a misty haze, <br>A softening blue, so cool a look, <br>And down the lane, the sheep did graze, <br>Alongside a rippling, and singing brook.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I stood and stretched my weary form, <br>And started down a rutted track, <br>The air was sultry and so warm, <br>Pleasant too, as I started back.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How fine, the countryside in spring, <br>In summer and in autumn hues, <br>And winter, when we went rambling, <br>Pulling on waterproof walking shoes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The changing seasons come and go, <br>And all have beauty to be seen, <br>The summer sunshine and winter snow, <br>Through which emerge, trees evergreen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So stop and dally for a while, <br>And breathe the fresh and balmy breeze, <br>Then thank God for this treasured isle, <br>And marvel at the scenes one sees.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ernestine+Northover">Ernestine Northover</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=390682" data-title="The Scenes One Sees de Ernestine Northover" data-description="I sat upon a dry stone wall, And looked towards the distant hills, The ferns around my feet grew tall, Convolvulus too, with its long tendrils. Down in the valley a church I spied, With a weathervane atop its tower, A solitary place, now uno..."></div> </div> </div>

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