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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=472387" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>At The Turn Of The Road</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">THE glory has passed from the goldenrod's plume,<br>The purple-hued asters still linger in bloom<br>The birch is bright yellow, the sumachs are red,<br>The maples like torches aflame overhead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But what if the joy of the summer is past,<br>And winter's wild herald is blowing his blast?<br>For me dull November is sweeter than May,<br>For my love is its sunshine,--she meets me to-day!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Will she come? Will the ring-dove return to her nest?<br>Will the needle swing back from the east or the west?<br>At the stroke of the hour she will be at her gate;<br>A friend may prove laggard,--love never comes late.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Do I see her afar in the distance? Not yet.<br>Too early! Too early! She could not forget!<br>When I cross the old bridge where the brook overflowed,<br>She will flash full in sight at the turn of the road.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I pass the low wall where the ivy entwines;<br>I tread the brown pathway that leads through the pines;<br>I haste by the boulder that lies in the field,<br>Where her promise at parting was lovingly sealed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Will she come by the hillside or round through the wood?<br>Will she wear her brown dress or her mantle and hood?<br>The minute draws near,--but her watch may go wrong;<br>My heart will be asking, What keeps her so long?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why doubt for a moment? More shame if I do!<br>Why question? Why tremble? Are angels more true?<br>She would come to the lover who calls her his own<br>Though she trod in the track of a whirling cyclone!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I crossed the old bridge ere the minute had passed.<br>I looked: lo! my Love stood before me at last.<br>Her eyes, how they sparkled, her cheeks, how they glowed,<br>As we met, face to face, at the turn of the road!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Oliver+Wendell+Holmes">Oliver Wendell Holmes</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=472387" data-title="At The Turn Of The Road de Oliver Wendell Holmes" data-description="THE glory has passed from the goldenrod's plume,
The purple-hued asters still linger in bloom
The birch is bright yellow, the sumachs are red,
The maples like torches aflame overhead.

But what if the joy of the summer is past,
And winter's wild h..."></div>
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