<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=415773" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Reflex Musings: Reflections from Various Surfaces</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the dense entangled street,<br>Where the web of Trade is weaving,<br>Forms unknown in crowds I meet<br>Much of each and all believing;<br>Each his small designs achieving<br>Hurries on with restless feet,<br>While, through Fancy’s power deceiving,<br>Self in every form I greet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oft in yonder rocky dell<br>Neath the birches’ shadow seated, <br>I have watched the darksome well,<br>Where my stooping form, repeated,<br>Now advanced and now retreated<br>With the spring’s alternate swell,<br>Till destroyed before completed<br>As the big drops grew and fell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">By the hollow mountain-side<br>Questions strange I shout for ever,<br>While the echoes far and wide<br>Seem to mock my vain endeavour;<br>Still I shout, for though they never<br>Cast my borrowed voice aside,<br>Words from empty words they sever—<br>Words of Truth from words of Pride.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes, the faces in the crowd,<br>And the wakened echoes, glancing<br>From the mountain, rocky browed,<br>And the lights in water dancing—<br>Each my wandering sense entrancing,<br>Tells me back my thoughts aloud,<br>All the joys of Truth enhancing<br>Crushing all that makes me proud.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+Clerk+Maxwell">James Clerk Maxwell</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=415773" data-title="Reflex Musings: Reflections from Various Surfaces de James Clerk Maxwell" data-description="In the dense entangled street, Where the web of Trade is weaving, Forms unknown in crowds I meet Much of each and all believing; Each his small designs achieving Hurries on with restless feet, While, through Fancy’s power deceiving, Self in ever..."></div> </div> </div>

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