<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=506735" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Storm.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I can hear the great boughs swing<br>Through the stormy night,<br>Each a dryad-haunted thing<br>With its dark delight,<br>As within an old-world air<br>When the Gods were everywhere.<br>All the wood seems to be up<br>At some eerie play,<br>Wild as Bacchanals whose sup<br>Had all through the day<br>Been a deep one, as they roar<br>With the waves upon the shore.<br>'Tis in sooth as Pan, too, mad<br>For fair Syrinx fled,<br>Had from Hades come, and had<br>Brought with him the dead<br>Who of old had worshipped him<br>To a midnight revel grim.<br>Or is it that Syrinx too,<br>From the reed restored,<br>Romps it as the satyrs do<br>With her now-loved lord?<br>And is this the night of nights,<br>And are these their marriage rites?<br>Who shall say? The great boughs swing,<br>As Time in a whirl<br>Did to the dark forest bring<br>The goat-god and his girl,<br>With the earth-enamoured crew<br>For a mystic hour or two.<br>Till amid the tumult I<br>Fall asleep, like one<br>Who had put the ages by<br>In a dream begun<br>Far back in another sphere,<br>Ere my 'wildered soul came here!<br>Ah! the dream that may indeed<br>Outlive all I know,<br>When like one whom Fate has freed<br>I through Hades go,<br>And see the great vision cast<br>On the future by the past.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Crawford">Robert Crawford</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=506735" data-title="The Storm. de Robert Crawford" data-description="I can hear the great boughs swing Through the stormy night, Each a dryad-haunted thing With its dark delight, As within an old-world air When the Gods were everywhere. All the wood seems to be up At some eerie play, Wild as Bacchanals whose sup Ha..."></div> </div> </div>

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