<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409721" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Golden Mile-Stone. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Leafless are the trees; their purple branches<br>Spread themselves abroad, like reefs of coral,<br>Rising silent<br>In the Red Sea of the winter sunset. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">From the hundred chimneys of the village,<br>Like the Afreet in the Arabian story,<br>Smoky columns<br>Tower aloft into the air of amber. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">At the window winks the flickering fire-light;<br>Here and there the lamps of evening glimmer,<br>Social watch-fires<br>Answering one another through the darkness. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">On the hearth the lighted logs are glowing,<br>And like Ariel in the cloven pine-tree<br>For its freedom<br>Groans and sighs the air imprisoned in them. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">By the fireside there are old men seated,<br>Seeing ruined cities in the ashes,<br>Asking sadly<br>Of the Past what it can ne'er restore them. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">By the fireside there are youthful dreamers,<br>Building castles fair, with stately stairways,<br>Asking blindly<br>Of the Future what it cannot give them. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">By the fireside tragedies are acted<br>In whose scenes appear two actors only,<br>Wife and husband,<br>And above them God the sole spectator. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">By the fireside there are peace and comfort,<br>Wives and children, with fair, thoughtful faces,<br>Waiting, watching<br>For a well-known footstep in the passage. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Each man's chimney is his Golden Mile-Stone;<br>Is the central point, from which he measures<br>Every distance<br>Through the gateways of the world around him. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">In his farthest wanderings still he sees it;<br>Hears the talking flame, the answering night-wind,<br>As he heard them<br>When he sat with those who were, but are not. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Happy he whom neither wealth nor fashion,<br>Nor the march of the encroaching city,<br>Drives an exile<br>From the hearth of his ancestral homestead. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We may build more splendid habitations,<br>Fill our rooms with paintings and with sculptures,<br>But we cannot<br>Buy with gold the old associations!</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=409721" data-title="The Golden Mile-Stone. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First) de Henry Wadsworth Longfellow" data-description="Leafless are the trees; their purple branches Spread themselves abroad, like reefs of coral, Rising silent In the Red Sea of the winter sunset. From the hundred chimneys of the village, Like the Afreet in the Arabian story, Smoky columns Tower a..."></div> </div> </div>

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