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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408375" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Persia</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I am writing this song at the close<br>Of a beautiful day of the spring<br>In a dell where the daffodil grows<br>By a grove of the glimmering wing;<br>From glades where a musical word<br>Comes ever from luminous fall,<br>I send you the song of a bird<br>That I wish to be dear to you all. <br>I have given my darling the name<br>Of a land at the gates of the day,<br>Where morning is always the same,<br>And spring never passes away.<br>With a prayer for a lifetime of light,<br>I christened her Persia, you see;<br>And I hope that some fathers to-night<br>Will kneel in the spirit with me. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She is only commencing to look<br>At the beauty in which she is set;<br>And forest and flower and brook,<br>To her are all mysteries yet.<br>I know that to many my words<br>Will seem insignificant things;<br>But you who are mothers of birds<br>Will feel for the father who sings. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">For all of you doubtless have been<br>Where sorrows are many and wild;<br>And you know what a beautiful scene<br>Of this world can be made by a child:<br>I am sure, if they listen to this,<br>Sweet women will quiver, and long<br>To tenderly stoop to and kiss<br>The Persia I’ve put in a song. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I’m certain the critic will pause,<br>And excuse, for the sake of my bird,<br>My sins against critical laws—<br>The slips in the thought and the word.<br>And haply some dear little face<br>Of his own to his mind will occur—<br>Some Persia who brightens his place—<br>And I’ll be forgiven for her. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A life that is turning to grey<br>Has hardly been happy, you see;<br>But the rose that has dropped on my way<br>Is morning and music to me.<br>Yea, she that I hold by the hand<br>Is changing white winter to green,<br>And making a light of the land—<br>All fathers will know what I mean: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">All women and men who have known<br>The sickness of sorrow and sin,<br>Will feel—having babes of their own—<br>My verse and the pathos therein.<br>For that must be touching which shows<br>How a life has been led from the wild<br>To a garden of glitter and rose,<br>By the flower-like hand of a child. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She is strange to this wonderful sphere;<br>One summer and winter have set<br>Since God left her radiance here—<br>Her sweet second year is not yet.<br>The world is so lovely and new<br>To eyes full of eloquent light,<br>And, sisters, I’m hoping that you<br>Will pray for my Persia to-night. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">For I, who have suffered so much,<br>And know what the bitterness is,<br>Am sad to think sorrow must touch<br>Some day even darlings like this!<br>But sorrow is part of this life,<br>And, therefore, a father doth long<br>For the blessing of mother and wife<br>On the bird he has put in a song.</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=408375" data-title="Persia de Henry Kendall" data-description="I am writing this song at the close
Of a beautiful day of the spring
In a dell where the daffodil grows
By a grove of the glimmering wing;
From glades where a musical word
Comes ever from luminous fall,
I send you the song of a bird
That I wish to..."></div>
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