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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420464" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Burns</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">ON RECEIVING A SPRIG OF HEATHER IN BLOSSOM.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No more these simple flowers belong<br>To Scottish maid and lover;<br>Sown in the common soil of song,<br>They bloom the wide world over.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In smiles and tears, in sun and showers,<br>The minstrel and the heather,<br>The deathless singer and the flowers<br>He sang of live together.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wild heather-bells and Robert Burns<br>The moorland flower and peasant!<br>How, at their mention, memory turns<br>Her pages old and pleasant!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The gray sky wears again its gold<br>And purple of adorning,<br>And manhood's noonday shadows hold<br>The dews of boyhood's morning.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The dews that washed the dust and soil<br>From off the wings of pleasure,<br>The sky, that flecked the, ground of toil<br>With golden threads of leisure.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I call to mind the summer day,<br>The early harvest mowing,<br>The sky with sun and clouds at play,<br>And flowers with breezes blowing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I hear the blackbird in the corn,<br>The locust in the haying;<br>And, like the fabled hunter's horn,<br>Old tunes my heart is playing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How oft that day, with fond delay,<br>I sought the maple's shadow,<br>And sang with Burns the hours away,<br>Forgetful of the meadow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bees hummed, birds twittered, overhead<br>I heard the squirrels leaping,<br>The good dog listened while I read,<br>And wagged his tail in keeping.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I watched him while in sportive mood<br>I read '_The Twa Dogs_' story,<br>And half believed he understood<br>The poet's allegory.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sweet day, sweet songs! The golden hours<br>Grew brighter for that singing,<br>From brook and bird and meadow flowers<br>A dearer welcome bringing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">New light on home-seen Nature beamed,<br>New glory over Woman;<br>And daily life and duty seemed<br>No longer poor and common.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I woke to find the simple truth<br>Of fact and feeling better<br>Than all the dreams that held my youth<br>A still repining debtor,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That Nature gives her handmaid, Art,<br>The themes of sweet discoursing;<br>The tender idyls of the heart<br>In every tongue rehearsing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why dream of lands of gold and pearl,<br>Of loving knight and lady,<br>When farmer boy and barefoot girl<br>Were wandering there already?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I saw through all familiar things<br>The romance underlying;<br>The joys and griefs that plume the wings<br>Of Fancy skyward flying.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I saw the same blithe day return,<br>The same sweet fall of even,<br>That rose on wooded Craigie-burn,<br>And sank on crystal Devon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I matched with Scotland's heathery hills<br>The sweetbrier and the clover;<br>With Ayr and Doon, my native rills,<br>Their wood-hymns chanting over.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O'er rank and pomp, as he had seen,<br>I saw the Man uprising;<br>No longer common or unclean,<br>The child of God's baptizing!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With clearer eyes I saw the worth<br>Of life among the lowly;<br>The Bible at his Cotter's hearth<br>Had made my own more holy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And if at times an evil strain,<br>To lawless love appealing,<br>Broke in upon the sweet refrain<br>Of pure and healthful feeling,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It died upon the eye and ear,<br>No inward answer gaining;<br>No heart had I to see or hear<br>The discord and the staining.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let those who never erred forget<br>His worth, in vain bewailings;<br>Sweet Soul of Song! I own my debt<br>Uncancelled by his failings!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lament who will the ribald line<br>Which tells his lapse from duty,<br>How kissed the maddening lips of wine<br>Or wanton ones of beauty;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But think, while falls that shade between<br>The erring one and Heaven,<br>That he who loved like Magdalen,<br>Like her may be forgiven.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not his the song whose thunderous chime<br>Eternal echoes render;<br>The mournful Tuscan's haunted rhyme,<br>And Milton's starry splendor!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But who his human heart has laid<br>To Nature's bosom nearer?<br>Who sweetened toil like him, or paid<br>To love a tribute dearer?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Through all his tuneful art, how strong<br>The human feeling gushes<br>The very moonlight of his song<br>Is warm with smiles and blushes!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Give lettered pomp to teeth of Time,<br>So 'Bonnie Doon' but tarry;<br>Blot out the Epic's stately rhyme,<br>But spare his Highland Mary!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Greenleaf+Whittier">John Greenleaf Whittier</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=420464" data-title="Burns de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="ON RECEIVING A SPRIG OF HEATHER IN BLOSSOM.

No more these simple flowers belong
To Scottish maid and lover;
Sown in the common soil of song,
They bloom the wide world over.

In smiles and tears, in sun and showers,
The minstrel and the heather,
T..."></div>
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