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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=454889" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Hillman’s Lass</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">OVER the field where the grass is cool, <br>(Follow the road who must !) <br>With a song for the beech and the brown pool, <br>And the noiseless tread in the dust, <br>With a laugh for the lazy hours that go, <br>And the folk who pass us by. <br>(The trees they grow so broad, so low, <br>They shut me from the sky.) </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here be strawberries wild and sweet, <br>(Follow the road who may !) <br>And here's a rest for a bairn's feet <br>And a kiss at the close o' day. <br>And here's a cloud from the shining sea <br>Like a white moth in the night. <br>(On the edge o' the barley field, may be <br>The stars would show more bright.) </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cut me a flute where the reeds are brown.<br>(Follow the road who will !)<br>O, I'll dress you fair in a green gown<br>And a cloak that is finer still.<br>Your sleeves shall be o' the fairies' lawn,<br>Your shoon as red as the rose.<br>(Do you think that the wind which wakes at dawn<br>Will bring us a breath o' the snows ?) </div><div style="margin:10px 0">O, the world's wide, and the world is long. <br>(Follow the road who may !) <br>And here's a lilt of the wild song <br>The Romany pipers play. <br>And 'Mine,' it sings, 'is the moon's shield, <br>And the cloak o' the cloud is mine.' <br>(Do you think that the lowland clover field <br>Is sweet as the upland pine ?)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Marjorie+Lowry+Christie+Pickthall">Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall</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=454889" data-title="The Hillman’s Lass de Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall" data-description="OVER the field where the grass is cool, 
(Follow the road who must !) 
With a song for the beech and the brown pool, 
And the noiseless tread in the dust, 
With a laugh for the lazy hours that go, 
And the folk who pass us by. 
(The trees they gro..."></div>
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