<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=506805" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Line-Storm Song</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The line-storm clouds fly tattered and swift, <br>The road is forlorn all day, <br>Where a myriad snowy quartz stones lift, <br>And the hoof-prints vanish away. <br>The roadside flowers, too wet for the bee,<br>Expend their bloom in vain. <br>Come over the hills and far with me, <br>And be my love in the rain. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The birds have less to say for themselves <br>In the wood-world’s torn despair<br>Than now these numberless years the elves, <br>Although they are no less there: <br>All song of the woods is crushed like some <br>Wild, easily shattered rose. <br>Come, be my love in the wet woods; come,<br>Where the boughs rain when it blows. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is the gale to urge behind <br>And bruit our singing down, <br>And the shallow waters aflutter with wind <br>From which to gather your gown.<br>What matter if we go clear to the west, <br>And come not through dry-shod? <br>For wilding brooch shall wet your breast <br>The rain-fresh goldenrod. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, never this whelming east wind swells<br>But it seems like the sea’s return <br>To the ancient lands where it left the shells <br>Before the age of the fern; <br>And it seems like the time when after doubt <br>Our love came back amain.<br>Oh, come forth into the storm and rout <br>And be my love in the rain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Frost">Robert Frost</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=506805" data-title="A Line-Storm Song de Robert Frost" data-description="The line-storm clouds fly tattered and swift, The road is forlorn all day, Where a myriad snowy quartz stones lift, And the hoof-prints vanish away. The roadside flowers, too wet for the bee, Expend their bloom in vain. Come over the hills an..."></div> </div> </div>

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