<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=480949" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Romany Girl</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sun goes down, and with him takes <br>The coarseness of my por attire; <br>The fair moon mounts, and aye the flame <br>Of Gypsy beauty blazes higher.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Pale Northern girls! you scorn our race; <br>You captives of your air-tight halls, <br>Wear out in-doors your sickly days, <br>But leave us the horizon walls.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And if I take you, dames, to task, <br>And say it frankly without guile, <br>Then you are Gypsies in a mask, <br>And I the lady all the while.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If, on the heath, below the moon, <br>I court and play with paler blood, <br>Me false to mine dare whisper none,-- <br>One sallow horseman knows me good.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Go, keep your cheek's rose from the rain, <br>For teeth and hair with shopmen deal; <br>My swarthy tint is in the grain, <br>The rocks and forest knoww it real.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The wild air bloweth in out lungs, <br>The keen stars twinkle in our eyes, <br>The birds gave us our wily tongues, <br>The panther in our dances flies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You doubt we read the stars on high, <br>Nathless we read your fortunes true; <br>The stars may hide in the upper sky, <br>But without glass we fathom you.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ralph+Waldo+Emerson">Ralph Waldo Emerson</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=480949" data-title="The Romany Girl de Ralph Waldo Emerson" data-description="The sun goes down, and with him takes The coarseness of my por attire; The fair moon mounts, and aye the flame Of Gypsy beauty blazes higher. Pale Northern girls! you scorn our race; You captives of your air-tight halls, Wear out in-doors yo..."></div> </div> </div>

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