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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=472455" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Illustration Of A Picture</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'A SPANISH GIRL IN REVERIE,'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">SHE twirled the string of golden beads,<br>That round her neck was hung,---<br>My grandsire's gift; the good old man<br>Loved girls when he was young;<br>And, bending lightly o'er the cord,<br>And turning half away,<br>With something like a youthful sigh,<br>Thus spoke the maiden gray:--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Well, one may trail her silken robe,<br>And bind her locks with pearls,<br>And one may wreathe the woodland rose<br>Among her floating curls;<br>And one may tread the dewy grass,<br>And one the marble floor,<br>Nor half-hid bosom heave the less,<br>Nor broidered corset more!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Some years ago, a dark-eyed girl<br>Was sitting in the shade,--<br>There's something brings her to my mind<br>In that young dreaming maid,--<br>And in her hand she held a flower,<br>A flower, whose speaking hue<br>Said, in the language of the heart,<br>'Believe the giver true.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'And, as she looked upon its leaves,<br>The maiden made a vow<br>To wear it when the bridal wreath<br>Was woven for her brow;<br>She watched the flower, as, day by day,<br>The leaflets curled and died;<br>But he who gave it never came<br>To claim her for his bride.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Oh, many a summer's morning glow<br>Has lent the rose its ray,<br>And many a winter's drifting snow<br>Has swept its bloom away;<br>But she has kept that faithless pledge<br>To this, her winter hour,<br>And keeps it still, herself alone,<br>And wasted like the flower.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her pale lip quivered, and the light<br>Gleamed in her moistening eyes;--<br>I asked her how she liked the tints<br>In those Castilian skies?<br>'She thought them misty,--'t was perhaps<br>Because she stood too near;'<br>She turned away, and as she turned<br>I saw her wipe a tear.</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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SHE twirled the string of golden beads,
That round her neck was hung,---
My grandsire's gift; the good old man
Loved girls when he was young;
And, bending lightly o'er the cord,
And turning half away,
With something l..."></div>
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