Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=456080" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Street-Children's Dance</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">NOW the earth in fields and hills<br>Stirs with pulses of the Spring,<br>Next-embowering hedges ring<br>With interminable trills;<br>Sunlight runs a race with rain,<br>All the world grows young again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Young as at the hour of birth:<br>From the grass the daisies rise<br>With the dew upon their eyes,<br>Sun-awakened eyes of earth;<br>Fields are set with cups of gold;<br>Can this budding world grow old?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Can the world grow old and sere,<br>Now when ruddy-tasselled trees<br>Stoop to every passing breeze,<br>Rustling in their silken gear;<br>Now when blossoms pink and white<br>Have their own terrestrial light?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Brooding light falls soft and warm,<br>Where in many a wind-rocked nest,<br>Curled up 'neath the she-bird's breast,<br>Clustering eggs are hid from harm;<br>While the mellow-throated thrush<br>Warbles in the purpling bush.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Misty purple bathes the Spring:<br>Swallows flashing here and there<br>Float and dive on waves of air,<br>And make love upon the wing;<br>Crocus-buds in sheaths of gold<br>Burst like sunbeams from the mould.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Chestnut leaflets burst their buds,<br>Perching tiptoe on each spray,<br>Springing toward the radiant day,<br>As the bland, pacific floods<br>Of the generative sun<br>All the teeming earth o'errun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Can this earth run o'er with beauty,<br>Laugh through leaf and flower and grain,<br>While in close-pent court and lane,<br>In the air so thick and sooty,<br>Little ones pace to and fro,<br>Weighted with their parents' woe?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Woe-predestined little ones!<br>Putting forth their buds of life<br>In an atmosphere of strife,<br>And crime breeding ignorance;<br>Where the bitter surge of care<br>Freezes to a dull despair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dull despair and misery<br>Lie about them from their birth;<br>Ugly curses, uglier mirth,<br>Are their earliest lullaby;<br>Fathers have they without name,<br>Mothers crushed by want and shame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Brutish, overburthened mothers,<br>With their hungry children cast<br>Half-nude to the nipping blast;<br>Little sisters with their brothers<br>Dragging in their arms all day<br>Children nigh as big as they.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Children mothered by the street:<br>Shouting, flouting, roaring after<br>Passers-by with gibes and laughter,<br>Diving between horses' feet,<br>In and out of drays and barrows,<br>Recklessly, like London sparrows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mudlarks of our slums and alleys,<br>All unconscious of the blooming<br>World behind those housetops looming.<br>Of the happy fields and valleys,<br>Of the miracle of Spring<br>With its boundless blossoming.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Blossoms of humanity!<br>Poor soiled blossoms in the dust!<br>Through the thick defiling crust<br>Of soul-stifling poverty,<br>In your features may be traced<br>Childhood's beauty half effaced--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Childhood, stunted in the shadow<br>Of the light-debarring walls:<br>Not for you the cuckoo calls<br>O'er the silver-threaded meadow;<br>Not for you the lark on high<br>Pours his music from the sky.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! you have your music too!<br>And come flocking round that player<br>Grinding at his organ there,<br>Summer-eyed and swart of hue,<br>Rattling off his well-worn tune<br>On this April afternoon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lovely April lights of pleasure<br>Flit o'er want-beclouded features<br>Of these little outcast creatures,<br>As they swing with rhythmic measure,<br>In the courage of their rags,<br>Lightly o'er the slippery flags.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Little footfalls, lightly glancing<br>In a luxury of motion,<br>Supple as the waves of ocean<br>In your elemental dancing,<br>How you fly, and wheel, and spin,<br>For your hearts too dance within.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dance along with mirth and laughter,<br>Buoyant, fearless, and elate,<br>Dancing in the teeth of fate,<br>Ignorant of your hereafter<br>That with all its tragic glooms<br>Blindly on your future looms.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Past and future, hence away!<br>Joy, diffused throughout the earth,<br>Centre in this moment's mirth<br>Of ecstatic holiday:<br>Once in all their lives' dark story,<br>Touch them, Fate! with April glory.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Mathilde+Blind">Mathilde Blind</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=456080" data-title="The Street-Children's Dance de Mathilde Blind" data-description="NOW the earth in fields and hills
Stirs with pulses of the Spring,
Next-embowering hedges ring
With interminable trills;
Sunlight runs a race with rain,
All the world grows young again.

Young as at the hour of birth:
From the grass the daisies ri..."></div>
</div>
</div>