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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408356" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Moss on a Wall</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dim dreams it hath of singing ways,<br>Of far-off woodland water-heads,<br>And shining ends of April days<br>Amongst the yellow runnel-beds.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Stoop closer to the ruined wall,<br>Whereon the wilful wilding sleeps,<br>As if its home were waterfall<br>By dripping clefts and shadowy steeps.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A little waif, whose beauty takes<br>A touching tone because it dwells<br>So far away from mountain lakes,<br>And lily leaves, and lightening fells.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Deep hidden in delicious floss<br>It nestles, sister, from the heat -<br>A gracious growth of tender moss<br>Whose nights are soft, whose days are sweet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Swift gleams across its petals run<br>With winds that hum a pleasant tune,<br>Serene surprises of the sun,<br>And whispers from the lips of noon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The evening-coloured apple-trees<br>Are faint with July's frosty breath.<br>But lo! this stranger getteth ease,<br>And shines amidst the strays of Death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And at the turning of the year,<br>When August wanders in the cold,<br>The raiment of the nursling here<br>Is rich with green and glad with gold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, friend of mine, to one whose eyes<br>Are vexed because of alien things,<br>For ever in the wall moss lies<br>The peace of hills and hidden springs.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">From faithless lips and fickle lights<br>The tired pilgrim sets his face,<br>And thinketh here of sounds and sights<br>In many a lovely forest-place.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And when by sudden fits and starts<br>The sunset on the moss doth burn,<br>He often dreams, and, lo! the marts<br>And streets are changed to dells of fern.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For, let me say, the wilding placed<br>By hands unseen amongst these stones,<br>Restores a Past by Time effaced,<br>Lost loves and long-forgotten tones!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As sometimes songs and scenes of old<br>Come faintly unto you and me,<br>When winds are wailing in the cold,<br>And rains are sobbing on the sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Kendall">Henry Kendall</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=408356" data-title="Moss on a Wall de Henry Kendall" data-description="Dim dreams it hath of singing ways,
Of far-off woodland water-heads,
And shining ends of April days
Amongst the yellow runnel-beds.

Stoop closer to the ruined wall,
Whereon the wilful wilding sleeps,
As if its home were waterfall
By dripping clef..."></div>
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