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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420534" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>In School-Days</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Still sits the school-house by the road, <br>A ragged beggar sleeping; <br>Around it still the sumachs grow, <br>And blackberry-vines are creeping. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Within, the master's desk is seen, <br>Deep-scarred by raps official; <br>The warping floor, the battered seats, <br>The jack-knife's carved initial; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The charcoal frescoes on its wall; <br>Its door's worn sill, betraying <br>The feet that, creeping slow to school, <br>Went storming out to playing! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Long years ago a winter sun <br>Shone over it at setting; <br>Lit up its western window-panes, <br>And low eaves' icy fretting. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It touched the tangled golden curls, <br>And brown eyes full of grieving, <br>Of one who still her steps delayed <br>When all the school were leaving. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">For near it stood the little boy <br>Her childish favor singled; <br>His cap pulled low upon a face <br>Where pride and shame were mingled. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Pushing with restless feet the snow <br>To right and left, he lingered;--- <br>As restlessly her tiny hands <br>The blue-checked apron fingered. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He saw her lift her eyes; he felt <br>The soft hand's light caressing, <br>And heard the tremble of her voice, <br>As if a fault confessing. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;I'm sorry that I spelt the word: <br>I hate to go above you, <br>Because,&quot;---the brown eyes lower fell,--- <br>&quot;Because, you see, I love you!&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Still memory to a gray-haired man <br>That sweet child-face is showing. <br>Dear girl! the grasses on her grave <br>Have forty years been growing! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He lives to learn, in life's hard school, <br>How few who pass above him <br>Lament their triumph and his loss, <br>Like her, because they love him.</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=420534" data-title="In School-Days de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="Still sits the school-house by the road, 
A ragged beggar sleeping; 
Around it still the sumachs grow, 
And blackberry-vines are creeping. 

Within, the master's desk is seen, 
Deep-scarred by raps official; 
The warping floor, the battered seats,..."></div>
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