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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=456490" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Dream</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Was it a dream? We sail'd, I thought we sail'd,<br>Martin and I, down the green Alpine stream,<br>Border'd, each bank, with pines; the morning sun,<br>On the wet umbrage of their glossy tops,<br>On the red pinings of their forest-floor, <br>Drew a warm scent abroad; behind the pines<br>The mountain-skirts, with all their sylvan change<br>Of bright-leaf'd chestnuts and moss'd walnut-trees<br>And the frail scarlet-berried ash, began.<br>Swiss chalets glitter'd on the dewy slopes, <br>And from some swarded shelf, high up, there came<br>Notes of wild pastoral music--over all<br>Ranged, diamond-bright, the eternal wall of snow.<br>Upon the mossy rocks at the stream's edge,<br>Back'd by the pines, a plank-built cottage stood, <br>Bright in the sun; the climbing gourd-plant's leaves<br>Muffled its walls, and on the stone-strewn roof<br>Lay the warm golden gourds; golden, within,<br>Under the eaves, peer'd rows of Indian corn.<br>We shot beneath the cottage with the stream. <br>On the brown, rude-carved balcony, two forms<br>Came forth--Olivia's, Marguerite! and thine.<br>Clad were they both in white, flowers in their breast;<br>Straw hats bedeck'd their heads, with ribbons blue,<br>Which danced, and on their shoulders, fluttering, play'd. <br>They saw us, they conferred; their bosoms heaved,<br>And more than mortal impulse fill'd their eyes.<br>Their lips moved; their white arms, waved eagerly,<br>Flash'd once, like falling streams; we rose, we gazed.<br>One moment, on the rapid's top, our boat <br>Hung poised--and then the darting river of Life<br>(Such now, methought, it was), the river of Life,<br>Loud thundering, bore us by; swift, swift it foam'd,<br>Black under cliffs it raced, round headlands shone.<br>Soon the plank'd cottage by the sun-warm'd pines <br>Faded--the moss--the rocks; us burning plains,<br>Bristled with cities, us the sea received.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Matthew+Arnold">Matthew Arnold</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=456490" data-title="A Dream de Matthew Arnold" data-description="Was it a dream? We sail'd, I thought we sail'd,
Martin and I, down the green Alpine stream,
Border'd, each bank, with pines; the morning sun,
On the wet umbrage of their glossy tops,
On the red pinings of their forest-floor, 
Drew a warm scent abr..."></div>
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