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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=450356" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Rain on the Hill</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now on the hill <br>The fitful wind is so still <br>That never a wimpling mist uplifts,<br>Nor a trembling leaf drop-laden stirs; <br>From the ancient firs <br>Aroma of balsam drifts, <br>And the silent places are filled <br>With elusive odors distilled <br>By the rain from asters empearled and frilled, <br>And a wild wet savor that dwells <br>Far adown in tawny fallows and bracken dells. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then with a rush, <br>Breaking the beautiful hush <br>Where the only sound was the lisping, low <br>Converse of raindrops, or the dear sound <br>Close to the ground, <br>That grasses make when they grow, <br>Comes the wind in a gay, <br>Rollicking, turbulent way, <br>To winnow each bough and toss each spray, <br>Piping and whistling in glee <br>With the vibrant notes of a merry minstrelsy. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The friendly rain <br>Sings many a haunting strain, <br>Now of gladness and now of dole, <br>Anon of the glamor and the dream <br>That ever seem <br>To wait on a pilgrim soul; <br>Yea, we can hear <br>The grief of an elder year, <br>And laughter half-forgotten and dear; <br>In the wind and the rain we find <br>Fellowship meet for each change of mood or mind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Lucy+Maud+Montgomery">Lucy Maud Montgomery</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=450356" data-title="Rain on the Hill de Lucy Maud Montgomery" data-description="Now on the hill 
The fitful wind is so still 
That never a wimpling mist uplifts,
Nor a trembling leaf drop-laden stirs; 
From the ancient firs 
Aroma of balsam drifts, 
And the silent places are filled 
With elusive odors distilled 
By the rain f..."></div>
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