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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=396852" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Seed-Time</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Flowers of the willow-herb are wool;<br>Flowers of the briar berries red;<br>Speeding their seed as the breeze may rule,<br>Flowers of the thistle loosen the thread.<br>Flowers of the clematis drip in beard,<br>Slack from the fir-tree youngly climbed;<br>Chaplets in air, flies foliage seared;<br>Heeled upon earth, lie clusters rimed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where were skies of the mantle stained<br>Orange and scarlet, a coat of frieze<br>Travels from North till day has waned,<br>Tattered, soaked in the ditch's dyes;<br>Tumbles the rook under grey or slate;<br>Else enfolding us, damps to the bone;<br>Narrows the world to my neighbour's gate;<br>Paints me Life as a wheezy crone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now seems none but the spider lord;<br>Star in circle his web waits prey,<br>Silvering bush-mounds, blue brushing sward;<br>Slow runs the hour, swift flits the ray.<br>Now to his thread-shroud is he nigh,<br>Nigh to the tangle where wings are sealed,<br>He who frolicked the jewelled fly;<br>All is adroop on the down and the weald.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mists more lone for the sheep-bell enwrap<br>Nights that tardily let slip a morn<br>Paler than moons, and on noontide's lap<br>Flame dies cold, like the rose late born.<br>Rose born late, born withered in bud! -<br>I, even I, for a zenith of sun<br>Cry, to fulfil me, nourish my blood:<br>O for a day of the long light, one!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">V</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Master the blood, nor read by chills,<br>Earth admonishes: Hast thou ploughed,<br>Sown, reaped, harvested grain for the mills,<br>Thou hast the light over shadow of cloud.<br>Steadily eyeing, before that wail<br>Animal-infant, thy mind began,<br>Momently nearer me: should sight fail,<br>Plod in the track of the husbandman.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Verily now is our season of seed,<br>Now in our Autumn; and Earth discerns<br>Them that have served her in them that can read,<br>Glassing, where under the surface she burns,<br>Quick at her wheel, while the fuel, decay,<br>Brightens the fire of renewal: and we?<br>Death is the word of a bovine day,<br>Know you the breast of the springing To-be.</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>
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Flowers of the willow-herb are wool;
Flowers of the briar berries red;
Speeding their seed as the breeze may rule,
Flowers of the thistle loosen the thread.
Flowers of the clematis drip in beard,
Slack from the fir-tree youngly climbed;
Chaplet..."></div>
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