<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=421264" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Erskine</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A singing voice is in my dream<br>The voice of Erskine, on his boulders,<br>Babbling and shouting till he shoulders<br>Stoutly against the heavier stream.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No longer now my curtained sight,<br>On serried books and pictures dwelling,<br>Of long-neglected work is telling,<br>But looks beyond the travelling night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And here no longer is my home,<br>For you and I are far asunder:<br>I hear again the cascade thunder<br>And watch the little pool of foam.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And where the water, pouring sleek,<br>In sudden whiteness flings his treasure,<br>I see you sitting, Queen of Pleasure,<br>Clad only by the glittering creek.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I hold my arms to you once more,<br>For O my longing flesh is aching,<br>And you, your rocky throne forsaking,<br>Come cool and radiant to the shore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I see my girl of girls recline<br>On smooth rock sloping to the water;<br>Then savagely have leapt and caught her,<br>And limpid eyes look up at mine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Love, Love, O Love, the embracing sun,<br>The trees, the creek, the earth our mother,<br>Who made that hour, give such another,<br>And make us—see us—know us one.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Le+Gay+Brereton">John Le Gay Brereton</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=421264" data-title="Erskine de John Le Gay Brereton" data-description="A singing voice is in my dream The voice of Erskine, on his boulders, Babbling and shouting till he shoulders Stoutly against the heavier stream. No longer now my curtained sight, On serried books and pictures dwelling, Of long-neglected work is ..."></div> </div> </div>

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