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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420633" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>St. Martin's Summer</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though flowers have perished at the touch<br>Of Frost, the early comer,<br>I hail the season loved so much,<br>The good St. Martin's summer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O gracious morn, with rose-red dawn,<br>And thin moon curving o'er it!<br>The old year's darling, latest born,<br>More loved than all before it!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How flamed the sunrise through the pines!<br>How stretched the birchen shadows,<br>Braiding in long, wind-wavered lines<br>The westward sloping meadows!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sweet day, opening as a flower<br>Unfolds its petals tender,<br>Renews for us at noontide's hour<br>The summer's tempered splendor.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The birds are hushed; alone the wind,<br>That through the woodland searches,<br>The red-oak's lingering leaves can find,<br>And yellow plumes of larches.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But still the balsam-breathing pine<br>Invites no thought of sorrow,<br>No hint of loss from air like wine<br>The earth's content can borrow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The summer and the winter here<br>Midway a truce are holding,<br>A soft, consenting atmosphere<br>Their tents of peace enfolding.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The silent woods, the lonely hills,<br>Rise solemn in their gladness;<br>The quiet that the valley fills<br>Is scarcely joy or sadness.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How strange! The autumn yesterday<br>In winter's grasp seemed dying;<br>On whirling winds from skies of gray<br>The early snow was flying.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And now, while over Nature's mood<br>There steals a soft relenting,<br>I will not mar the present good,<br>Forecasting or lamenting.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My autumn time and Nature's hold<br>A dreamy tryst together,<br>And, both grown old, about us fold<br>The golden-tissued weather.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I lean my heart against the day<br>To feel its bland caressing;<br>I will not let it pass away<br>Before it leaves its blessing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">God's angels come not as of old<br>The Syrian shepherds knew them;<br>In reddening dawns, in sunset gold,<br>And warm noon lights I view them.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor need there is, in times like this<br>When heaven to earth draws nearer,<br>Of wing or song as witnesses<br>To make their presence clearer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O stream of life, whose swifter flow<br>Is of the end forewarning,<br>Methinks thy sundown afterglow<br>Seems less of night than morning!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Old cares grow light; aside I lay<br>The doubts and fears that troubled;<br>The quiet of the happy day<br>Within my soul is doubled.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That clouds must veil this fair sunshine<br>Not less a joy I find it;<br>Nor less yon warm horizon line<br>That winter lurks behind it.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The mystery of the untried days<br>I close my eyes from reading;<br>His will be done whose darkest ways<br>To light and life are leading!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Less drear the winter night shall be,<br>If memory cheer and hearten<br>Its heavy hours with thoughts of thee,<br>Sweet summer of St. Martin!</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=420633" data-title="St. Martin's Summer de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="Though flowers have perished at the touch
Of Frost, the early comer,
I hail the season loved so much,
The good St. Martin's summer.

O gracious morn, with rose-red dawn,
And thin moon curving o'er it!
The old year's darling, latest born,
More love..."></div>
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