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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=472512" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Poem For The Dedication Of The Fountain At Stratford-On-Avon</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">PRESENTED BY GEORGE W. CHILDS, OF PHILADELPHIA</div><div style="margin:10px 0">WELCOME, thrice welcome is thy silvery gleam,<br>Thou long-imprisoned stream!<br>Welcome the tinkle of thy crystal beads<br>As plashing raindrops to the flowery meads,<br>As summer's breath to Avon's whispering reeds!<br>From rock-walled channels, drowned in rayless night,<br>Leap forth to life and light;<br>Wake from the darkness of thy troubled dream,<br>And greet with answering smile the morning's beam!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No purer lymph the white-limbed Naiad knows<br>Than from thy chalice flows;<br>Not the bright spring of Afric's sunny shores,<br>Starry with spangles washed from golden ores,<br>Nor glassy stream Bandusia's fountain pours,<br>Nor wave translucent where Sabrina fair<br>Braids her loose-flowing hair,<br>Nor the swift current, stainless as it rose<br>Where chill Arveiron steals from Alpine snows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here shall the traveller stay his weary feet<br>To seek thy calm retreat;<br>Here at high noon the brown-armed reaper rest;<br>Here, when the shadows, lengthening from the west,<br>Call the mute song-bird to his leafy nest,<br>Matron and maid shall chat the cares away<br>That brooded o'er the day,<br>While flocking round them troops of children meet,<br>And all the arches ring with laughter sweet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here shall the steed, his patient life who spends<br>In toil that never ends,<br>Hot from his thirsty tramp o'er hill and plain,<br>Plunge his red nostrils, while the torturing rein<br>Drops in loose loops beside his floating mane;<br>Nor the poor brute that shares his master's lot<br>Find his small needs forgot,--<br>Truest of humble, long-enduring friends,<br>Whose presence cheers, whose guardian care<br>defends!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here lark and thrush and nightingale shall sip,<br>And skimming swallows dip,<br>And strange shy wanderers fold their lustrous plumes<br>Fragrant from bowers that lent their sweet perfumes<br>Where Paestum's rose or Persia's lilac blooms;<br>Here from his cloud the eagle stoop to drink<br>At the full basin's brink,<br>And whet his beak against its rounded lip,<br>His glossy feathers glistening as they drip.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here shall the dreaming poet linger long,<br>Far from his listening throng,--<br>Nor lute nor lyre his trembling hand shall bring;<br>Here no frail Muse shall imp her crippled wing,<br>No faltering minstrel strain his throat to sing!<br>These hallowed echoes who shall dare to claim<br>Whose tuneless voice would shame,<br>Whose jangling chords with jarring notes would wrong<br>The nymphs that heard the Swan if Avon's song?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What visions greet the pilgrim's raptured eyes!<br>What ghosts made real rise!<br>The dead return,--they breathe,--they live again,<br>Joined by the host of Fancy's airy train,<br>Fresh from the springs of Shakespeare's quickening brain!<br>The stream that slakes the soul's diviner thirst<br>Here found the sunbeams first;<br>Rich with his fame, not less shall memory prize<br>The gracious gift that humbler wants supplies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O'er the wide waters reached the hand that gave<br>To all this bounteous wave,<br>With health and strength and joyous beauty fraught;<br>Blest be the generous pledge of friendship, brought<br>From the far home of brothers' love, unbought!<br>Long may fair Avon's fountain flow, enrolled<br>With storied shrines of old,<br>Castalia's spring, Egeria's dewy cave,<br>And Horeb's rock the God of Israel slave!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Land of our fathers, ocean makes us two,<br>But heart to heart is true!<br>Proud is your towering daughter in the West,<br>Yet in her burning life-blood reign confest<br>Her mother's pulses beating in her breast.<br>This holy fount, whose rills from heaven descend,<br>Its gracious drops shall lend,--<br>Both foreheads bathed in that baptismal dew,<br>And love make one the old home and the new!</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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WELCOME, thrice welcome is thy silvery gleam,
Thou long-imprisoned stream!
Welcome the tinkle of thy crystal beads
As plashing raindrops to the flowery meads,
As summer's breath to Avon's whispering ..."></div>
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