Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=396761" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Love in the Valley</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Under yonder beech-tree single on the green-sward,<br>Couched with her arms behind her golden head,<br>Knees and tresses folded to slip and ripple idly,<br>Lies my young love sleeping in the shade.<br>Had I the heart to slide an arm beneath her,<br>Press her parting lips as her waist I gather slow,<br>Waking in amazement she could not but embrace me:<br>Then would she hold me and never let me go?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shy as the squirrel and wayward as the swallow,<br>Swift as the swallow along the river's light<br>Circleting the surface to meet his mirrored winglets,<br>Fleeter she seems in her stay than in her flight.<br>Shy as the squirrel that leaps among the pine-tops,<br>Wayward as the swallow overhead at set of sun,<br>She whom I love is hard to catch and conquer,<br>Hard, but O the glory of the winning were she won!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When her mother tends her before the laughing mirror,<br>Tying up her laces, looping up her hair,<br>Often she thinks, were this wild thing wedded,<br>More love should I have, and much less care.<br>When her mother tends her before the lighted mirror,<br>Loosening her laces, combing down her curls,<br>Often she thinks, were this wild thing wedded,<br>I should miss but one for many boys and girls.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Heartless she is as the shadow in the meadows<br>Flying to the hills on a blue and breezy noon.<br>No, she is athirst and drinking up her wonder:<br>Earth to her is young as the slip of the new moon.<br>Deals she an unkindness, 'tis but her rapid measure,<br>Even as in a dance; and her smile can heal no less:<br>Like the swinging May-cloud that pelts the flowers with hailstones<br>Off a sunny border, she was made to bruise and bless.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lovely are the curves of the white owl sweeping<br>Wavy in the dusk lit by one large star.<br>Lone on the fir-branch, his rattle-note unvaried,<br>Brooding o'er the gloom, spins the brown eve-jar.<br>Darker grows the valley, more and more forgetting: <br>So were it with me if forgetting could be willed.<br>Tell the grassy hollow that holds the bubbling well-spring,<br>Tell it to forget the source that keeps it filled.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Stepping down the hill with her fair companions,<br>Arm in arm, all against the raying West<br>Boldly she sings, to the merry tune she marches,<br>Brave in her shape, and sweeter unpossessed.<br>Sweeter, for she is what my heart first awaking<br>Whispered the world was; morning light is she.<br>Love that so desires would fain keep her changeless;<br>Fain would fling the net, and fain have her free.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Happy happy time, when the white star hovers<br>Low over dim fields fresh with bloomy dew,<br>Near the face of dawn, that draws athwart the darkness,<br>Threading it with colour, as yewberries the yew.<br>Thicker crowd the shades while the grave East deepens<br>Glowing, and with crimson a long cloud swells.<br>Maiden still the morn is; and strange she is, and secret;<br>Strange her eyes; her cheeks are cold as cold sea-shells.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sunrays, leaning on our southern hills and lighting<br>Wild cloud-mountains that drag the hills along,<br>Oft ends the day of your shifting brilliant laughter<br>Chill as a dull face frowning on a song.<br>Ay, but shows the South-West a ripple-feathered bosom<br>Blown to silver while the clouds are shaken and ascend<br>Scaling the mid-heavens as they stream, there comes a sunset<br>Rich, deep like love in beauty without end.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When at dawn she sighs, and like an infant to the window<br>Turns grave eyes craving light, released from dreams,<br>Beautiful she looks, like a white water-lily<br>Bursting out of bud in havens of the streams.<br>When from bed she rises clothed from neck to ankle<br>In her long nightgown sweet as boughs of May,<br>Beautiful she looks, like a tall garden lily<br>Pure from the night, and splendid for the day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mother of the dews, dark eye-lashed twilight,<br>Low-lidded twilight, o'er the valley's brim,<br>Rounding on thy breast sings the dew-delighted skylark,<br>Clear as though the dewdrops had their voice in him.<br>Hidden where the rose-flush drinks the rayless planet,<br>Fountain-full he pours the spraying fountain-showers.<br>Let me hear her laughter, I would have her ever<br>Cool as dew in twilight, the lark above the flowers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All the girls are out with their baskets for the primrose;<br>Up lanes, woods through, they troop in joyful bands.<br>My sweet leads: she knows not why, but now she totters,<br>Eyes the bent anemones, and hangs her hands.<br>Such a look will tell that the violets are peeping,<br>Coming the rose: and unaware a cry<br>Springs in her bosom for odours and for colour,<br>Covert and the nightingale; she knows not why.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Kerchiefed head and chin she darts between her tulips,<br>Streaming like a willow grey in arrowy rain:<br>Some bend beaten cheek to gravel, and their angel<br>She will be; she lifts them, and on she speeds again.<br>Black the driving raincloud breasts the iron gateway:<br>She is forth to cheer a neighbour lacking mirth.<br>So when sky and grass met rolling dumb for thunder<br>Saw I once a white dove, sole light of earth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Prim little scholars are the flowers of her garden,<br>Trained to stand in rows, and asking if they please.<br>I might love them well but for loving more the wild ones:<br>O my wild ones! they tell me more than these.<br>You, my wild one, you tell of honied field-rose,<br>Violet, blushing eglantine in life; and even as they,<br>They by the wayside are earnest of your goodness,<br>You are of life's, on the banks that line the way.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Peering at her chamber the white crowns the red rose,<br>Jasmine winds the porch with stars two and three.<br>Parted is the window; she sleeps; the starry jasmine<br>Breathes a falling breath that carries thoughts of me.<br>Sweeter unpossessed, have I said of her my sweetest?<br>Not while she sleeps: while she sleeps the jasmine breathes,<br>Luring her to love; she sleeps; the starry jasmine<br>Bears me to her pillow under white rose-wreaths.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yellow with birdfoot-trefoil are the grass-glades;<br>Yellow with cinquefoil of the dew-grey leaf;<br>Yellow with stonecrop; the moss-mounds are yellow;<br>Blue-necked the wheat sways, yellowing to the sheaf:<br>Green-yellow bursts from the copse the laughing yaffle;<br>Sharp as a sickle is the edge of shade and shine:<br>Earth in her heart laughs looking at the heavens,<br>Thinking of the harvest: I look and think of mine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This I may know: her dressing and undressing<br>Such a change of light shows as when the skies in sport<br>Shift from cloud to moonlight; or edging over thunder <br>Slips a ray of sun; or sweeping into port<br>White sails furl; or on the ocean borders<br>White sails lean along the waves leaping green. <br>Visions of her shower before me, but from eyesight <br>Guarded she would be like the sun were she seen. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Front door and back of the mossed old farmhouse<br>Open with the morn, and in a breezy link<br>Freshly sparkles garden to stripe-shadowed orchard,<br>Green across a rill where on sand the minnows wink.<br>Busy in the grass the early sun of summer<br>Swarms, and the blackbird's mellow fluting notes<br>Call my darling up with round and roguish challenge:<br>Quaintest, richest carol of all the singing throats!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cool was the woodside; cool as her white dairy<br>Keeping sweet the cream-pan; and there the boys from school,<br>Cricketing below, rushed brown and red with sunshine;<br>O the dark translucence of the deep-eyed cool!<br>Spying from the farm, herself she fetched a pitcher<br>Full of milk, and tilted for each in turn the beak.<br>Then a little fellow, mouth up and on tiptoe,<br>Said, &quot;I will kiss you&quot;: she laughed and leaned her cheek.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Doves of the fir-wood walling high our red roof<br>Through the long noon coo, crooning through the coo.<br>Loose droop the leaves, and down the sleepy roadway<br>Sometimes pipes a chaffinch; loose droops the blue.<br>Cows flap a slow tail knee-deep in the river,<br>Breathless, given up to sun and gnat and fly.<br>Nowhere is she seen; and if I see her nowhere,<br>Lightning may come, straight rains and tiger sky.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O the golden sheaf, the rustling treasure-armful!<br>O the nutbrown tresses nodding interlaced!<br>O the treasure-tresses one another over<br>Nodding! O the girdle slack about the waist!<br>Slain are the poppies that shot their random scarlet<br>Quick amid the wheatears: wound about the waist,<br>Gathered, see these brides of Earth one blush of ripeness!<br>O the nutbrown tresses nodding interlaced! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Large and smoky red the sun's cold disk drops,<br>Clipped by naked hills, on violet shaded snow:<br>Eastward large and still lights up a bower of moonrise,<br>Whence at her leisure steps the moon aglow.<br>Nightlong on black print-branches our beech-tree<br>Gazes in this whiteness: nightlong could I.<br>Here may life on death or death on life be painted.<br>Let me clasp her soul to know she cannot die!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Gossips count her faults; they scour a narrow chamber<br>Where there is no window, read not heaven or her.<br>&quot;When she was a tiny,&quot; one aged woman quavers,<br>Plucks at my heart and leads me by the ear.<br>Faults she had once as she learnt to run and tumbled:<br>Faults of feature some see, beauty not complete.<br>Yet, good gossips, beauty that makes holy<br>Earth and air, may have faults from head to feet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hither she comes; she comes to me; she lingers,<br>Deepens her brown eyebrows, while in new surprise<br>High rise the lashes in wonder of a stranger;<br>Yet am I the light and living of her eyes. <br>Something friends have told her fills her heart to brimming,<br>Nets her in her blushes, and wounds her, and tames.--<br>Sure of her haven, O like a dove alighting,<br>Arms up, she dropped: our souls were in our names.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Soon will she lie like a white-frost sunrise.<br>Yellow oats and brown wheat, barley pale as rye,<br>Long since your sheaves have yielded to the thresher,<br>Felt the girdle loosened, seen the tresses fly.<br>Soon will she lie like a blood-red sunset.<br>Swift with the to-morrow, green-winged Spring!<br>Sing from the South-West, bring her back the truants,<br>Nightingale and swallow, song and dipping wing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Soft new beech-leaves, up to beamy April<br>Spreading bough on bough a primrose mountain, you,<br>Lucid in the moon, raise lilies to the skyfields,<br>Youngest green transfused in silver shining through:<br>Fairer than the lily, than the wild white cherry:<br>Fair as in image my seraph love appears<br>Borne to me by dreams when dawn is at my eyelids:<br>Fair as in the flesh she swims to me on tears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Could I find a place to be alone with heaven,<br>I would speak my heart out: heaven is my need.<br>Every woodland tree is flushing like the dog-wood,<br>Flashing like the whitebeam, swaying like the reed.<br>Flushing like the dog-wood crimson in October;<br>Streaming like the flag-reed South-West blown;<br>Flashing as in gusts the sudden-lighted white beam:<br>All seem to know what is for heaven alone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=George+Meredith">George Meredith</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=396761" data-title="Love in the Valley de George Meredith" data-description="Under yonder beech-tree single on the green-sward,
Couched with her arms behind her golden head,
Knees and tresses folded to slip and ripple idly,
Lies my young love sleeping in the shade.
Had I the heart to slide an arm beneath her,
Press her par..."></div>
</div>
</div>