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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=421235" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Third Sunday After Trinity</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">O hateful spell of Sin! when friends are nigh,<br> To make stern Memory tell her tale unsought,<br>And raise accusing shades of hours gone by,<br> To come between us and all kindly thought!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Chilled at her touch, the self-reproaching soul<br> Flies from the heart and home she dearest loves,<br>To where lone mountains tower, or billows roll,<br> Or to your endless depth, ye solemn groves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In vain: the averted cheek in loneliest dell<br> Is conscious of a gaze it cannot bear,<br>The leaves that rustle near us seem to tell<br> Our heart's sad secret to the silent air.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor is the dream untrue; for all around<br> The heavens are watching with their thousand eyes,<br>We cannot pass our guardian angel's bound,<br> Resigned or sullen, he will hear our sighs.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He in the mazes of the budding wood<br> Is near, and mourns to see our thankless glance<br>Dwell coldly, where the fresh green earth is strewed<br> With the first flowers that lead the vernal dance.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In wasteful bounty showered, they smile unseen,<br> Unseen by man--but what if purer sprights<br>By moonlight o'er their dewy bosoms lean<br> To adore the Father of all gentle lights?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If such there be, O grief and shame to think<br> That sight of thee should overcloud their joy,<br>A new-born soul, just waiting on the brink<br> Of endless life, yet wrapt in earth's annoy!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O turn, and be thou turned! the selfish tear,<br> In bitter thoughts of low-born care begun,<br>Let it flow on, but flow refined and clear,<br> The turbid waters brightening as they run.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let it flow on, till all thine earthly heart<br> In penitential drops have ebbed away,<br>Then fearless turn where Heaven hath set thy part,<br> Nor shudder at the Eye that saw thee stray.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O lost and found! all gentle souls below<br> Their dearest welcome shall prepare, and prove<br>Such joy o'er thee, as raptured seraphs know,<br> Who learn their lesson at the Throne of Love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Keble">John Keble</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=421235" data-title="Third Sunday After Trinity de John Keble" data-description="O hateful spell of Sin! when friends are nigh,
 To make stern Memory tell her tale unsought,
And raise accusing shades of hours gone by,
 To come between us and all kindly thought!

Chilled at her touch, the self-reproaching soul
 Flies from the h..."></div>
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