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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=392052" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To Daisies</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, drops of gold in whitening flame<br>Burning, we know your lovely name -<br>Daisies, that little children pull!<br>Like all weak things, over the strong<br>Ye do not know your power for wrong,<br>And much abuse your feebleness.<br>Daisies, that little children pull,<br>As ye are weak, be merciful!<br>O hide your eyes! they are to me<br>Beautiful insupportably.<br>Or be but conscious ye are fair,<br>And I your loveliness could bear,<br>But, being fair so without art,<br>Ye vex the silted memories of my heart!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As a pale ghost yearning strays<br>With sundered gaze,<br>'Mid corporal presences that are<br>To it impalpable - such a bar<br>Sets you more distant than the morning-star.<br>Such wonder is on you, and amaze,<br>I look and marvel if I be<br>Indeed the phantom, or are ye?<br>The light is on your innocence<br>Which fell from me.<br>The fields ye still inhabit whence<br>My world-acquainted treading strays,<br>The country where I did commence;<br>And though ye shine to me so near,<br>So close to gross and visible sense, -<br>Between us lies impassable year on year.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To other time and far-off place<br>Belongs your beauty: silent thus,<br>Though to other naught you tell,<br>To me your ranks are rumorous<br>Of an ancient miracle.<br>Vain does my touch your petals graze,<br>I touch you not; and though ye blossom here,<br>Your roots are fast in alienated days.<br>Ye there are anchored, while Time's stream<br>Has swept me past them: your white ways<br>And infantile delights do seem<br>To look in on me like a face,<br>Dead and sweet, come back through dream,<br>With tears, because for old embrace<br>It has no arms.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">These hands did toy,<br>Children, with you, when I was child,<br>And in each other's eyes we smiled:<br>Not yours, not yours the grievous-fair<br>Apparelling<br>With which you wet mine eyes; you wear,<br>Ah me, the garment of the grace<br>I wove you when I was a boy;<br>O mine, and not the year's your stolen Spring!<br>And since ye wear it,<br>Hide your sweet selves! I cannot bear it.<br>For when ye break the cloven earth<br>With your young laughter and endearment,<br>No blossomy carillon 'tis of mirth<br>To me; I see my slaughtered joy<br>Bursting its cerement.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Francis+Thompson">Francis Thompson</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=392052" data-title="To Daisies de Francis Thompson" data-description="Ah, drops of gold in whitening flame
Burning, we know your lovely name -
Daisies, that little children pull!
Like all weak things, over the strong
Ye do not know your power for wrong,
And much abuse your feebleness.
Daisies, that little children p..."></div>
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