<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409846" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ultima Thule: The Windmill</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Behold! a giant am I!<br>Aloft here in my tower,<br>With my granite jaws I devour<br>The maize, and the wheat, and the rye,<br>And grind them into flour. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I look down over the farms;<br>In the fields of grain I see<br>The harvest that is to be,<br>And I fling to the air my arms,<br>For I know it is all for me. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I hear the sound of flails<br>Far off, from the threshing-floors<br>In barns, with their open doors,<br>And the wind, the wind in my sails,<br>Louder and louder roars. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I stand here in my place,<br>With my foot on the rock below,<br>And whichever way it may blow,<br>I meet it face to face,<br>As a brave man meets his foe. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And while we wrestle and strive,<br>My master, the miller, stands<br>And feeds me with his hands;<br>For he knows who makes him thrive,<br>Who makes him lord of lands. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">On Sundays I take my rest;<br>Church-going bells begin<br>Their low, melodious din;<br>I cross my arms on my breast,<br>And all is peace within.</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=409846" data-title="Ultima Thule: The Windmill de Henry Wadsworth Longfellow" data-description="Behold! a giant am I! Aloft here in my tower, With my granite jaws I devour The maize, and the wheat, and the rye, And grind them into flour. I look down over the farms; In the fields of grain I see The harvest that is to be, And I fling to the ..."></div> </div> </div>

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