<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=400573" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Strange Music</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Other loves may sink and settle, other loves may loose and slack,<br> But I wander like a minstrel with a harp upon my back,<br>Though the harp be on my bosom, though I finger and I fret,<br> Still, my hope is all before me; for I cannot play it yet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In your strings is hid a music that no hand hath e'er let fall,<br> In your soul is sealed a pleasure that you have not known at all;<br>Pleasure subtle as your spirit, strange and slender as your frame,<br> Fiercer than the pain that folds you, softer than your sorrow's name.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not as mine, my soul's annointed, not as mine the rude and light<br> Easy mirth of many faces, swaggering pride of song and fight;<br>Something stranger, something sweeter, something waiting you afar,<br> Secret as your stricken senses, magic as your sorrows are.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But on this, God's harp supernal, stretched but to be stricken once,<br> Hoary time is a beginner, Life a bungler, Death a dunce.<br>But I will not fear to match them - no by God, I will not fear,<br> I will learn you, I will play you and the stars stand still to hear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Gilbert+Keith+Chesterton">Gilbert Keith Chesterton</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=400573" data-title="The Strange Music de Gilbert Keith Chesterton" data-description="Other loves may sink and settle, other loves may loose and slack, But I wander like a minstrel with a harp upon my back, Though the harp be on my bosom, though I finger and I fret, Still, my hope is all before me; for I cannot play it yet. In y..."></div> </div> </div>

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