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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420581" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>My Playmate</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The pines were dark on Ramoth hill,<br>Their song was soft and low;<br>The blossoms in the sweet May wind<br>Were falling like the snow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The blossoms drifted at our feet,<br>The orchard birds sang clear;<br>The sweetest and the saddest day<br>It seemed of all the year.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For, more to me than birds or flowers,<br>My playmate left her home,<br>And took with her the laughing spring,<br>The music and the bloom.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She kissed the lips of kith and kin,<br>She laid her hand in mine<br>What more could ask the bashful boy<br>Who fed her father's kine?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She left us in the bloom of May<br>The constant years told o'er<br>Their seasons with as sweet May morns,<br>But she came back no more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I walk, with noiseless feet, the round<br>Of uneventful years;<br>Still o'er and o'er I sow the spring<br>And reap the autumn ears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She lives where all the golden year<br>Her summer roses blow;<br>The dusky children of the sun<br>Before her come and go.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There haply with her jewelled hands<br>She smooths her silken gown,-<br>No more the homespun lap wherein<br>I shook the walnuts down.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The wild grapes wait us by the brook,<br>The brown nuts on the hill,<br>And still the May-day flowers make sweet<br>The woods of Follymill.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The lilies blossom in the pond,<br>The bird builds in the tree,<br>The dark pines sing on Ramoth hill<br>The slow song of the sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I wonder if she thinks of them,<br>And how the old time seems,-<br>If ever the pines of Ramoth wood<br>Are sounding in her dreams.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I see her face, I hear her voice;<br>Does she remember mine?<br>And what to her is now the boy<br>Who fed her father's kine?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What cares she that the orioles build<br>For other eyes than ours,-<br>That other hands with nuts are filled,<br>And other laps with flowers?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O playmate in the golden time!<br>Our mossy seat is green,<br>Its fringing violets blossom yet,<br>The old trees o'er it lean.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The winds so sweet with birch and fern<br>A sweeter memory blow;<br>And there in spring the veeries sing<br>The song of long ago.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And still the pines of Ramoth wood<br>Are moaning like the sea,-</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The moaning of the sea of change<br>Between myself and thee!</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=420581" data-title="My Playmate de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="The pines were dark on Ramoth hill,
Their song was soft and low;
The blossoms in the sweet May wind
Were falling like the snow.

The blossoms drifted at our feet,
The orchard birds sang clear;
The sweetest and the saddest day
It seemed of all the ..."></div>
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