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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409054" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>An Exotic</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not in a climate near the sun<br>Did the cloud with its trailing fringes float,<br>Whence, white as the down of an angel's plume,<br>Fell the snow of her brow and throat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the ground had been rich for a thousand years<br>With the blood of heroes, and sages, and kings,<br>Where the rose that blooms in her exquisite cheek<br>Unfolded the flush of its wings.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On a land where the faces are fair, though pale<br>As a moonlit mist when the winds are still,<br>She breaks like a morning in Paradise<br>Through the palms of an orient hill.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her beauty, perhaps, were all too bright,<br>But about her there broods some delicate spell,<br>Whence the wondrous charm of the girl grows soft<br>As the light in an English dell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is not a story of faith and truth<br>On the starry scroll of her country's fame,<br>But has helped to shape her stately mien,<br>And to touch her soul with flame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I sometimes forget, as she sweeps me a bow,<br>That I gaze on a simple English maid,<br>And I bend my head, as if to a queen<br>Who is courting my lance and blade.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Once, as we read, in a curtained niche,<br>A poet who sang of her sea-throned isle,<br>There was something of Albion's mighty Bess<br>In the flash of her haughty smile.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She seemed to gather from every age<br>All the greatness of England about her there,<br>And my fancy wove a royal crown<br>Of the dusky gold of her hair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But it was no queen to whom that day,<br>In the dim green shade of a trellised vine,<br>I whispered a hope that had somewhat to do<br>With a small white hand in mine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Tudor had vanished, and, as I spoke,<br>'T was herself looked out of her frank brown eye,<br>And an answer was burning upon her face,<br>Ere I caught the low reply.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What was it! Nothing the world need know --<br>The stars saw our parting! Enough, that then<br>I walked from the porch with the tread of a king,<br>And she was a queen again!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Timrod">Henry Timrod</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=409054" data-title="An Exotic de Henry Timrod" data-description="Not in a climate near the sun
Did the cloud with its trailing fringes float,
Whence, white as the down of an angel's plume,
Fell the snow of her brow and throat.

And the ground had been rich for a thousand years
With the blood of heroes, and sage..."></div>
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