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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=512761" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Frost At Midnight</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Frost performs its secret ministry,<br>Unhelped by any wind. The owlet's cry<br>Came loud--and hark, again ! loud as before.<br>The inmates of my cottage, all at rest,<br>Have left me to that solitude, which suits<br>Abstruser musings : save that at my side<br>My cradled infant slumbers peacefully.<br>'Tis calm indeed ! so calm, that it disturbs<br>And vexes meditation with its strange<br>And extreme silentness. Sea, hill, and wood,<br>This populous village ! Sea, and hill, and wood,<br>With all the numberless goings-on of life,<br>Inaudible as dreams ! the thin blue flame<br>Lies on my low-burnt fire, and quivers not ;<br>Only that film, which fluttered on the grate,<br>Still flutters there, the sole unquiet thing.<br>Methinks, its motion in this hush of nature<br>Gives it dim sympathies with me who live,<br>Making it a companionable form,<br>Whose puny flaps and freaks the idling Spirit<br>By its own moods interprets, every where<br>Echo or mirror seeking of itself,<br>And makes a toy of Thought.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> [Image] [Image] [Image] [Image]But O ! how oft,<br>How oft, at school, with most believing mind,<br>Presageful, have I gazed upon the bars,<br>To watch that fluttering stranger ! and as oft<br>With unclosed lids, already had I dreamt<br>Of my sweet birth-place, and the old church-tower,<br>Whose bells, the poor man's only music, rang<br>From morn to evening, all the hot Fair-day,<br>So sweetly, that they stirred and haunted me<br>With a wild pleasure, falling on mine ear<br>Most like articulate sounds of things to come !<br>So gazed I, till the soothing things, I dreamt,<br>Lulled me to sleep, and sleep prolonged my dreams !<br>And so I brooded all the following morn,<br>Awed by the stern preceptor's face, mine eye<br>Fixed with mock study on my swimming book :<br>Save if the door half opened, and I snatched<br>A hasty glance, and still my heart leaped up,<br>For still I hoped to see the stranger's face,<br>Townsman, or aunt, or sister more beloved,<br>My play-mate when we both were clothed alike !</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Dear Babe, that sleepest cradled by my side,<br>Whose gentle breathings, heard in this deep calm,<br>Fill up the intersperséd vacancies<br>And momentary pauses of the thought !<br>My babe so beautiful ! it thrills my heart<br>With tender gladness, thus to look at thee,<br>And think that thou shalt learn far other lore,<br>And in far other scenes ! For I was reared<br>In the great city, pent 'mid cloisters dim,<br>And saw nought lovely but the sky and stars.<br>But thou, my babe ! shalt wander like a breeze<br>By lakes and sandy shores, beneath the crags<br>Of ancient mountain, and beneath the clouds,<br>Which image in their bulk both lakes and shores<br>And mountain crags : so shalt thou see and hear<br>The lovely shapes and sounds intelligible<br>Of that eternal language, which thy God<br>Utters, who from eternity doth teach<br>Himself in all, and all things in himself.<br>Great universal Teacher ! he shall mould<br>Thy spirit, and by giving make it ask.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,<br>Whether the summer clothe the general earth<br>With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing<br>Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch<br>Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch<br>Smokes in the sun-thaw ; whether the eave-drops fall<br>Heard only in the trances of the blast,<br>Or if the secret ministry of frost<br>Shall hang them up in silent icicles,<br> Quietly shining to the quiet Moon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Samuel+Taylor+Coleridge">Samuel Taylor Coleridge</a><div class=q>
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<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=512761" data-title="Frost At Midnight de Samuel Taylor Coleridge" data-description="The Frost performs its secret ministry,
Unhelped by any wind. The owlet's cry
Came loud--and hark, again ! loud as before.
The inmates of my cottage, all at rest,
Have left me to that solitude, which suits
Abstruser musings : save that at my side
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