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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391647" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Spanish Chapel</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I made a mountain-brook my guide<br>Thro' a wild Spanish glen,<br>And wandered, on its grassy side,<br>Far from the homes of men. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It lured me with a singing tone,<br>And many a sunny glance,<br>To a green spot of beauty lone,<br>A haunt for old romance. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A dim and deeply-bosom'd grove<br>Of many an aged tree,<br>Such as the shadowy violets love,<br>The fawn and forest-bee. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The darkness of the chestnut bough<br>There on the waters lay,<br>The bright stream reverently below,<br>Check'd its exulting play; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And bore a music all subdued,<br>And led a silvery sheen,<br>On thro' the breathing solitude<br>Of that rich leafy scene. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">For something viewlessly around<br>Of solemn influence dwelt,<br>In the soft gloom and whispery sound,<br>Not to be told, but felt; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">While sending forth a quiet gleam<br>Across the wood's repose,<br>And o'er the twilight of the stream,<br>A lowly chapel rose. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A pathway to that still retreat<br>Thro' many a myrtle wound,<br>And there a sightâ€“how strangely sweet!<br>My steps in wonder bound. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">For on a brilliant bed of flowers,<br>Even at the threshold made,<br>As if to sleep thro' sultry hours,<br>A young fair child was laid. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">To sleep?â€“oh! ne'er on childhood's eye,<br>And silken lashes press'd,<br>Did the warm living slumber lie,<br>With such a weight of rest! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet still a tender crimson glow<br>Its cheek's pure marble dyedâ€“<br>'Twas but the light's faint streaming flow<br>Thro' roses heap'd beside. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I stoop'dâ€“the smooth round arm was chill,<br>The soft lip's breath was fled,<br>And the bright ringlets hung so stillâ€“<br>The lovely child was dead! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Alas!' I cried, 'fair faded thing!<br>Thou hast wrung bitter tears,<br>And thou hast left a wo, to cling<br>Round yearning hearts for years!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But then a voice came sweet and lowâ€“<br>I turn'd, and near me sate<br>A woman with a mourner's brow,<br>Pale, yet not desolate. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And in her still, clear, matron face,<br>All solemnly serene,<br>A shadow'd image I could trace<br>Of that young slumberer's mien. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Stranger! thou pitiest me,' she said,<br>With lips that faintly smil'd,<br>'As here I watch beside my dead,<br>My fair and precious child. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'But know, the time-worn heart may be<br>By pangs in this world riven,<br>Keener than theirs who yield, like me,<br>An angel thus to Heaven!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Felicia+Dorothea+Hemans">Felicia Dorothea Hemans</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=391647" data-title="The Spanish Chapel de Felicia Dorothea Hemans" data-description="I made a mountain-brook my guide
Thro' a wild Spanish glen,
And wandered, on its grassy side,
Far from the homes of men. 

It lured me with a singing tone,
And many a sunny glance,
To a green spot of beauty lone,
A haunt for old romance. 

A dim a..."></div>
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