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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420752" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Pageant</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A sound as if from bells of silver,<br>Or elfin cymbals smitten clear,<br>Through the frost-pictured panes I hear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A brightness which outshines the morning,<br>A splendor brooking no delay,<br>Beckons and tempts my feet away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I leave the trodden village highway<br>For virgin snow-paths glimmering through<br>A jewelled elm-tree avenue;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where, keen against the walls of sapphire,<br>The gleaming tree-bolls, ice-embossed,<br>Hold up their chandeliers of frost.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I tread in Orient halls enchanted,<br>I dream the Saga's dream of caves<br>Gem-lit beneath the North Sea waves!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I walk the land of Eldorado,<br>I touch its mimic garden bowers,<br>Its silver leaves and diamond flowers!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The flora of the mystic mine-world<br>Around me lifts on crystal stems<br>The petals of its clustered gems!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What miracle of weird transforming<br>In this wild work of frost and light,<br>This glimpse of glory infinite!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This foregleam of the Holy City<br>Like that to him of Patmos given,<br>The white bride coming down from heaven!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How flash the ranked and mail-clad alders,<br>Through what sharp-glancing spears of reeds<br>The brook its muffled water leads!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yon maple, like the bush of Horeb,<br>Burns unconsumed: a white, cold fire<br>Rays out from every grassy spire.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Each slender rush and spike of mullein,<br>Low laurel shrub and drooping fern,<br>Transfigured, blaze where'er I turn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How yonder Ethiopian hemlock<br>Crowned with his glistening circlet stands!<br>What jewels light his swarthy hands!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here, where the forest opens southward,<br>Between its hospitable pines,<br>As through a door, the warm sun shines.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The jewels loosen on the branches,<br>And lightly, as the soft winds blow,<br>Fall, tinkling, on the ice below.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And through the clashing of their cymbals<br>I hear the old familiar fall<br>Of water down the rocky wall,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where, from its wintry prison breaking,<br>In dark and silence hidden long,<br>The brook repeats its summer song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One instant flashing in the sunshine,<br>Keen as a sabre from its sheath,<br>Then lost again the ice beneath.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I hear the rabbit lightly leaping,<br>The foolish screaming of the jay,<br>The chopper's axe-stroke far away;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The clamor of some neighboring barn-yard,<br>The lazy cock's belated crow,<br>Or cattle-tramp in crispy snow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, as in some enchanted forest<br>The lost knight hears his comrades sing,<br>And, near at hand, their bridles ring,--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So welcome I these sounds and voices,<br>These airs from far-off summer blown,<br>This life that leaves me not alone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For the white glory overawes me;<br>The crystal terror of the seer<br>Of Chebar's vision blinds me here.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Rebuke me not, O sapphire heaven!<br>Thou stainless earth, lay not on me,<br>Thy keen reproach of purity,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If, in this August presence-chamber,<br>I sigh for summer's leaf-green gloom<br>And warm airs thick with odorous bloom!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let the strange frost-work sink and crumble,<br>And let the loosened tree-boughs swing,<br>Till all their bells of silver ring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shine warmly down, thou sun of noontime,<br>On this chill pageant, melt and move<br>The winter's frozen heart with love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, soft and low, thou wind south-blowing,<br>Breathe through a veil of tenderest haze<br>Thy prophecy of summer days.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Come with thy green relief of promise,<br>And to this dead, cold splendor bring<br>The living jewels of the spring!</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=420752" data-title="The Pageant de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="A sound as if from bells of silver,
Or elfin cymbals smitten clear,
Through the frost-pictured panes I hear.

A brightness which outshines the morning,
A splendor brooking no delay,
Beckons and tempts my feet away.

I leave the trodden village hig..."></div>
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