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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=421246" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Twenty-First Sunday After Trinity</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The morning mist is cleared away,<br> Yet still the face of Heaven is grey,<br>Nor yet this autumnal breeze has stirred the grove,<br> Faded yet full, a paler green<br> Skirts soberly the tranquil scene,<br>The red-breast warbles round this leafy cove.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Sweet messenger of &quot;calm decay,&quot;<br> Saluting sorrow as you may,<br>As one still bent to find or make the best,<br> In thee, and in this quiet mead,<br> The lesson of sweet peace I read,<br>Rather in all to be resigned than blest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> 'Tis a low chant, according well<br> With the soft solitary knell,<br>As homeward from some grave beloved we turn,<br> Or by some holy death-bed dear,<br> Most welcome to the chastened ear<br>Of her whom Heaven is teaching how to mourn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O cheerful tender strain! the heart<br> That duly bears with you its part,<br>Singing so thankful to the dreary blast,<br> Though gone and spent its joyous prime,<br> And on the world's autumnal time,<br>'Mid withered hues and sere, its lot be cast:</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> That is the heart for thoughtful seer,<br> Watching, in trance nor dark nor clear,<br>Th' appalling Future as it nearer draws:<br> His spirit calmed the storm to meet,<br> Feeling the rock beneath his feet,<br>And tracing through the cloud th' eternal Cause.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> That is the heart for watchman true<br> Waiting to see what GOD will do,<br>As o'er the Church the gathering twilight falls<br> No more he strains his wistful eye,<br> If chance the golden hours be nigh,<br>By youthful Hope seen beaming round her walls.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Forced from his shadowy paradise,<br> His thoughts to Heaven the steadier rise:<br>There seek his answer when the world reproves:<br> Contented in his darkling round,<br> If only he be faithful found,<br>When from the east the eternal morning moves.</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=421246" data-title="Twenty-First Sunday After Trinity de John Keble" data-description="The morning mist is cleared away,
 Yet still the face of Heaven is grey,
Nor yet this autumnal breeze has stirred the grove,
 Faded yet full, a paler green
 Skirts soberly the tranquil scene,
The red-breast warbles round this leafy cove.

 Sweet m..."></div>
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