<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=473272" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Magdalen Walks</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">THE little white clouds are racing over the sky,<br> And the fields are strewn with the gold of the flower of March,<br> The daffodil breaks under foot, and the tasselled larch<br> Sways and swings as the thrush goes hurrying by.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> A delicate odour is borne on the wings of the morning breeze,<br> The odour of leaves, and of grass, and of newly up-turned earth,<br> The birds are singing for joy of the Spring's glad birth,<br> Hopping from branch to branch on the rocking trees.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And all the woods are alive with the murmur and sound of Spring,<br> And the rosebud breaks into pink on the climbing briar,<br> And the crocus-bed is a quivering moon of fire<br> Girdled round with the belt of an amethyst ring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And the plane to the pine-tree is whispering some tale of love<br> Till it rustles with laughter and tosses its mantle of green,<br> And the gloom of the wych-elm's hollow is lit with the iris sheen<br> Of the burnished rainbow throat and the silver breast of a dove.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> See! the lark starts up from his bed in the meadow there,<br> Breaking the gossamer threads and the nets of dew,<br> And flashing a-down the river, a flame of blue!<br> The kingfisher flies like an arrow, and wounds the air.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Oscar+Wilde">Oscar Wilde</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=473272" data-title="Magdalen Walks de Oscar Wilde" data-description="THE little white clouds are racing over the sky, And the fields are strewn with the gold of the flower of March, The daffodil breaks under foot, and the tasselled larch Sways and swings as the thrush goes hurrying by. A delicate odour is born..."></div> </div> </div>

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