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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408371" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Orara</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">THE STRONG sob of the chafing stream <br> That seaward fights its way <br>Down crags of glitter, dells of gleam, <br> Is in the hills to-day. <br> <br>But far and faint, a grey-winged form <br> Hangs where the wild lights wane— <br>The phantom of a bygone storm, <br> A ghost of wind and rain. <br> <br>The soft white feet of afternoon <br> Are on the shining meads, <br>The breeze is as a pleasant tune <br> Amongst the happy reeds. <br> <br>The fierce, disastrous, flying fire, <br> That made the great caves ring, <br>And scarred the slope, and broke the spire, <br> Is a forgotten thing. <br> <br>The air is full of mellow sounds, <br> The wet hill-heads are bright, <br>And down the fall of fragrant grounds <br> The deep ways flame with light. <br> <br>A rose-red space of stream I see, <br> Past banks of tender fern; <br>A radiant brook, unknown to me <br> Beyond its upper turn: <br> <br>The singing silver life I hear, <br> Whose home is in the green, <br>Far-folded woods of fountains clear, <br> Where I have never been. <br> <br>Ah, brook above the upper bend, <br> I often long to stand <br>Where you in soft, cool shades descend <br> From the untrodden land! <br> <br>Ah, folded woods, that hide the grace <br> Of moss and torrents strong, <br>I often wish to know the face <br> Of that which sings your song! <br> <br>But I may linger, long, and look <br> Till night is over all: <br>My eyes will never see the brook, <br> Or sweet, strange waterfall. <br> <br>The world is round me with its heat, <br> And toil, and cares that tire; <br>I cannot with my feeble feet <br> Climb after my desire. <br> <br>But, on the lap of lands unseen, <br> Within a secret zone, <br>There shine diviner gold and green <br> Than man has ever known. <br> <br>And where the silver waters sing <br> Down hushed and holy dells, <br>The flower of a celestial Spring, <br> A tenfold splendour, dwells. <br> <br>Yea, in my dream of fall and brook <br> By far sweet forests furled, <br>I see that light for which I look <br> In vain through all the world— <br> <br>The glory of a larger sky <br> On slopes of hills sublime, <br>That speak with God and morning, high <br> Above the ways of Time! <br> <br>Ah! haply, in this sphere of change <br> Where shadows spoil the beam, <br>It would not do to climb that range <br> And test my radiant Dream. <br> <br>The slightest glimpse of yonder place, <br> Untrodden and alone, <br>Might wholly kill that nameless grace <br> The charm of the unknown. <br> <br>And therefore, though I look and long, <br> Perhaps the lot is bright <br>Which keeps the river of the song <br> A beauty out of sight</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=408371" data-title="Orara de Henry Kendall" data-description="THE STRONG sob of the chafing stream 
 That seaward fights its way 
Down crags of glitter, dells of gleam, 
 Is in the hills to-day. 
 
But far and faint, a grey-winged form 
 Hangs where the wild lights wane— 
The phantom of a bygone storm, 
 A..."></div>
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