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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=448016" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Anne</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her eyes be like the violets,<br> Ablow in Sudbury lane;<br>When she doth smile, her face is sweet<br> As blossoms after rain;<br>With grief I think of my gray hairs,<br> And wish me young again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In comes she through the dark old door<br> Upon this Sabbath day;<br>And she doth bring the tender wind<br> That sings in bush and tree;<br>And hints of all the apple boughs<br> That kissed her by the way.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Our parson stands up straight and tall,<br> For our dear souls to pray,<br>And of the place where sinners go<br> Some grewsome things doth say:<br>Now, she is highest Heaven to me;<br> So Hell is far away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Most stiff and still the good folk sit<br> To hear the sermon through;<br>But if our God be such a God,<br> And if these things be true,<br>Why did He make her then so fair,<br> And both her eyes so blue?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A flickering light, the sun creeps in,<br> And finds her sitting there;<br>And touches soft her lilac gown,<br> And soft her yellow hair;<br>I look across to that old pew,<br> And have both praise and prayer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, violets in Sudbury lane,<br> Amid the grasses green,<br>This maid who stirs ye with her feet<br> Is far more fair, I ween!<br>I wonder how my forty years<br> Look by her sweet sixteen!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Lizette+Woodworth+Reese">Lizette Woodworth Reese</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=448016" data-title="Anne de Lizette Woodworth Reese" data-description="Her eyes be like the violets,
 Ablow in Sudbury lane;
When she doth smile, her face is sweet
 As blossoms after rain;
With grief I think of my gray hairs,
 And wish me young again.

In comes she through the dark old door
 Upon this Sabbath day;
An..."></div>
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