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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409453" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Flower-De-Luce: Palingenesis</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I lay upon the headland-height, and listened <br>To the incessant sobbing of the sea <br>In caverns under me, <br>And watched the waves, that tossed and fled and glistened, <br>Until the rolling meadows of amethyst <br>Melted away in mist. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then suddenly, as one from sleep, I started; <br>For round about me all the sunny capes <br>Seemed peopled with the shapes <br>Of those whom I had known in days departed, <br>Apparelled in the loveliness which gleams <br>On faces seen in dreams. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A moment only, and the light and glory <br>Faded away, and the disconsolate shore <br>Stood lonely as before; <br>And the wild-roses of the promontory <br>Around me shuddered in the wind, and shed <br>Their petals of pale red. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There was an old belief that in the embers <br>Of all things their primordial form exists, <br>And cunning alchemists <br>Could re-create the rose with all its members <br>From its own ashes, but without the bloom, <br>Without the lost perfume. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah me! what wonder-working, occult science <br>Can from the ashes in our hearts once more <br>The rose of youth restore? <br>What craft of alchemy can bid defiance <br>To time and change, and for a single hour <br>Renew this phantom-flower? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O, give me back,' I cried, 'the vanished splendors, <br>The breath of morn, and the exultant strife, <br>When the swift stream of life <br>Bounds o'er its rocky channel, and surrenders <br>The pond, with all its lilies, for the leap <br>Into the unknown deep!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the sea answered, with a lamentation, <br>Like some old prophet wailing, and it said, <br>'Alas! thy youth is dead! <br>It breathes no more, its heart has no pulsation; <br>In the dark places with the dead of old <br>It lies forever cold!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then said I, 'From its consecrated cerements <br>I will not drag this sacred dust again, <br>Only to give me pain; <br>But, still remembering all the lost endearments, <br>Go on my way, like one who looks before, <br>And turns to weep no more.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Into what land of harvests, what plantations <br>Bright with autumnal foliage and the glow <br>Of sunsets burning low; <br>Beneath what midnight skies, whose constellations <br>Light up the spacious avenues between <br>This world and the unseen! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Amid what friendly greetings and caresses, <br>What households, though not alien, yet not mine, <br>What bowers of rest divine; <br>To what temptations in lone wildernesses, <br>What famine of the heart, what pain and loss, <br>The bearing of what cross! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I do not know; nor will I vainly question <br>Those pages of the mystic book which hold <br>The story still untold, <br>But without rash conjecture or suggestion <br>Turn its last leaves in reverence and good heed, <br>Until 'The End' I read.</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>
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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=409453" data-title="Flower-De-Luce: Palingenesis de Henry Wadsworth Longfellow" data-description="I lay upon the headland-height, and listened 
To the incessant sobbing of the sea 
In caverns under me, 
And watched the waves, that tossed and fled and glistened, 
Until the rolling meadows of amethyst 
Melted away in mist. 

Then suddenly, as on..."></div>
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