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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=395961" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Pastoral</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nature feels the touch of noon; <br> Not a rustle stirs the grass; <br>Not a shadow flecks the sky, <br>Save the brown hawk hovering nigh; <br> Not a ripple dims the glass <br> Of the wide lagoon. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Darkly, like an armed host <br> Seen afar against the blue, <br>Rise the hills, and yellow-grey <br>Sleeps the plain in cove and bay, <br> Like a shining sea that dreams <br> Round a silent coast. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">From the heart of these blue hills, <br> Like the joy that flows from peace, <br>Creeps the river far below <br>Fringed with willow, sinuous, slow. <br> Surely here there seems surcease <br> From the care that kills. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Surely here might radiant Love <br> Fill with happiness his cup, <br>Where the purple lucerne-bloom <br>Floods the air with sweet perfume, <br> Nature's incense floating up <br> To the Gods above. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Neath the gnarled-boughed apple trees <br> Motionless the cattle stand; <br>Chequered cornfield, homestead white, <br>Sleeping in the streaming light, <br> For deep trance is o'er the land, <br> And the wings of peace. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here, O Power that moves the heart, <br> Thou art in the quiet air; <br>Here, unvexed of code or creed, <br>Man may breathe his bitter need; <br> Nor with impious lips declare <br> What Thou wert and art. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">All the strong souls of the race <br> Thro' the aeons that have run, <br>They have cried aloud to Thee -- <br>"Thou art that which stirs in me!" <br> As the flame leaps towards the sun <br> They have sought Thy face. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But the faiths have flowered and flown, <br> And the truth is but in part; <br>Many a creed and many a grade <br>For Thy purpose Thou hast made. <br> None can know Thee what Thou art, <br> Fathomless! Unknown!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=George+Essex+Evans">George Essex Evans</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=395961" data-title="A Pastoral de George Essex Evans" data-description="Nature feels the touch of noon; Not a rustle stirs the grass; Not a shadow flecks the sky, Save the brown hawk hovering nigh; Not a ripple dims the glass Of the wide lagoon. Darkly, like..."></div> </div> </div>
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