<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409343" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Day Of Sunshine. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Second)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">O gift of God! O perfect day:<br>Whereon shall no man work, but play;<br>Whereon it is enough for me,<br>Not to be doing, but to be! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Through every fibre of my brain,<br>Through every nerve, through every vein,<br>I feel the electric thrill, the touch<br>Of life, that seems almost too much. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I hear the wind among the trees<br>Playing celestial symphonies;<br>I see the branches downward bent,<br>Like keys of some great instrument. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And over me unrolls on high<br>The splendid scenery of the sky,<br>Where though a sapphire sea the sun<br>Sails like a golden galleon, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Towards yonder cloud-land in the West,<br>Towards yonder Islands of the Blest,<br>Whose steep sierra far uplifts<br>Its craggy summits white with drifts. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Blow, winds! and waft through all the rooms<br>The snow-flakes of the cherry-blooms!<br>Blow, winds! and bend within my reach<br>The fiery blossoms of the peach! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">O Life and Love! O happy throng<br>Of thoughts, whose only speech is song!<br>O heart of man! canst thou not be<br>Blithe as the air is, and as free?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Wadsworth+Longfellow">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</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=409343" data-title="A Day Of Sunshine. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Second) de Henry Wadsworth Longfellow" data-description="O gift of God! O perfect day: Whereon shall no man work, but play; Whereon it is enough for me, Not to be doing, but to be! Through every fibre of my brain, Through every nerve, through every vein, I feel the electric thrill, the touch Of life, ..."></div> </div> </div>

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