Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=518809" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Corn.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">To-day the woods are trembling through and through<br>With shimmering forms, that flash before my view,<br>Then melt in green as dawn-stars melt in blue.<br> The leaves that wave against my cheek caress<br> Like women's hands; the embracing boughs express<br> A subtlety of mighty tenderness;<br> The copse-depths into little noises start,<br> That sound anon like beatings of a heart,<br> Anon like talk 'twixt lips not far apart.<br> The beech dreams balm, as a dreamer hums a song;<br> Through that vague wafture, expirations strong<br> Throb from young hickories breathing deep and long<br>With stress and urgence bold of prisoned spring<br> And ecstasy of burgeoning.<br> Now, since the dew-plashed road of morn is dry,<br> Forth venture odors of more quality<br> And heavenlier giving. Like Jove's locks awry,<br> Long muscadines<br>Rich-wreathe the spacious foreheads of great pines,<br>And breathe ambrosial passion from their vines.<br> I pray with mosses, ferns and flowers shy<br> That hide like gentle nuns from human eye<br> To lift adoring perfumes to the sky.<br>I hear faint bridal-sighs of brown and green<br>Dying to silent hints of kisses keen<br>As far lights fringe into a pleasant sheen.<br> I start at fragmentary whispers, blown<br> From undertalks of leafy souls unknown,<br> Vague purports sweet, of inarticulate tone.<br>Dreaming of gods, men, nuns and brides, between<br>Old companies of oaks that inward lean<br>To join their radiant amplitudes of green<br> I slowly move, with ranging looks that pass<br> Up from the matted miracles of grass<br>Into yon veined complex of space<br>Where sky and leafage interlace<br> So close, the heaven of blue is seen<br> Inwoven with a heaven of green.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I wander to the zigzag-cornered fence<br>Where sassafras, intrenched in brambles dense,<br>Contests with stolid vehemence<br> The march of culture, setting limb and thorn<br> As pikes against the army of the corn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There, while I pause, my fieldward-faring eyes<br>Take harvests, where the stately corn-ranks rise,<br> Of inward dignities<br>And large benignities and insights wise,<br> Graces and modest majesties.<br>Thus, without theft, I reap another's field;<br>Thus, without tilth, I house a wondrous yield,<br>And heap my heart with quintuple crops concealed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Look, out of line one tall corn-captain stands<br>Advanced beyond the foremost of his bands,<br> And waves his blades upon the very edge<br> And hottest thicket of the battling hedge.<br>Thou lustrous stalk, that ne'er mayst walk nor talk,<br> Still shalt thou type the poet-soul sublime<br> That leads the vanward of his timid time<br> And sings up cowards with commanding rhyme --<br>Soul calm, like thee, yet fain, like thee, to grow<br>By double increment, above, below;<br> Soul homely, as thou art, yet rich in grace like thee,<br> Teaching the yeomen selfless chivalry<br> That moves in gentle curves of courtesy;<br>Soul filled like thy long veins with sweetness tense,<br> By every godlike sense<br>Transmuted from the four wild elements.<br> Drawn to high plans,<br> Thou lift'st more stature than a mortal man's,<br>Yet ever piercest downward in the mould<br> And keepest hold<br> Upon the reverend and steadfast earth<br> That gave thee birth;<br> Yea, standest smiling in thy future grave,<br> Serene and brave,<br> With unremitting breath<br> Inhaling life from death,<br>Thine epitaph writ fair in fruitage eloquent,<br> Thyself thy monument.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> As poets should,<br>Thou hast built up thy hardihood<br>With universal food,<br> Drawn in select proportion fair<br> From honest mould and vagabond air;<br>From darkness of the dreadful night,<br> And joyful light;<br> From antique ashes, whose departed flame<br> In thee has finer life and longer fame;<br>From wounds and balms,<br>From storms and calms,<br>From potsherds and dry bones<br> And ruin-stones.<br>Into thy vigorous substance thou hast wrought<br>Whate'er the hand of Circumstance hath brought;<br> Yea, into cool solacing green hast spun<br> White radiance hot from out the sun.<br>So thou dost mutually leaven<br>Strength of earth with grace of heaven;<br> So thou dost marry new and old<br> Into a one of higher mould;<br> So thou dost reconcile the hot and cold,<br> The dark and bright,<br>And many a heart-perplexing opposite,<br> And so,<br> Akin by blood to high and low,<br>Fitly thou playest out thy poet's part,<br>Richly expending thy much-bruised heart<br> In equal care to nourish lord in hall<br> Or beast in stall:<br> Thou took'st from all that thou mightst give to all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O steadfast dweller on the selfsame spot<br>Where thou wast born, that still repinest not --<br>Type of the home-fond heart, the happy lot! --<br> Deeply thy mild content rebukes the land<br> Whose flimsy homes, built on the shifting sand<br>Of trade, for ever rise and fall<br>With alternation whimsical,<br> Enduring scarce a day,<br> Then swept away<br>By swift engulfments of incalculable tides<br>Whereon capricious Commerce rides.<br>Look, thou substantial spirit of content!<br>Across this little vale, thy continent,<br> To where, beyond the mouldering mill,<br> Yon old deserted Georgian hill<br>Bares to the sun his piteous aged crest<br> And seamy breast,<br> By restless-hearted children left to lie<br> Untended there beneath the heedless sky,<br> As barbarous folk expose their old to die.<br>Upon that generous-rounding side,<br> With gullies scarified<br> Where keen Neglect his lash hath plied,<br>Dwelt one I knew of old, who played at toil,<br>And gave to coquette Cotton soul and soil.<br> Scorning the slow reward of patient grain,<br> He sowed his heart with hopes of swifter gain,<br> Then sat him down and waited for the rain.<br>He sailed in borrowed ships of usury --<br>A foolish Jason on a treacherous sea,<br>Seeking the Fleece and finding misery.<br> Lulled by smooth-rippling loans, in idle trance<br> He lay, content that unthrift Circumstance<br> Should plough for him the stony field of Chance.<br>Yea, gathering crops whose worth no man might tell,<br>He staked his life on games of Buy-and-Sell,<br>And turned each field into a gambler's hell.<br> Aye, as each year began,<br> My farmer to the neighboring city ran;<br>Passed with a mournful anxious face<br>Into the banker's inner place;<br>Parleyed, excused, pleaded for longer grace;<br> Railed at the drought, the worm, the rust, the grass;<br> Protested ne'er again 'twould come to pass;<br> With many an `oh' and `if' and `but alas'<br>Parried or swallowed searching questions rude,<br>And kissed the dust to soften Dives's mood.<br>At last, small loans by pledges great renewed,<br> He issues smiling from the fatal door,<br> And buys with lavish hand his yearly store<br> Till his small borrowings will yield no more.<br>Aye, as each year declined,<br>With bitter heart and ever-brooding mind<br>He mourned his fate unkind.<br> In dust, in rain, with might and main,<br> He nursed his cotton, cursed his grain,<br> Fretted for news that made him fret again,<br>Snatched at each telegram of Future Sale,<br>And thrilled with Bulls' or Bears' alternate wail --<br>In hope or fear alike for ever pale.<br> And thus from year to year, through hope and fear,<br> With many a curse and many a secret tear,<br> Striving in vain his cloud of debt to clear,<br> At last<br>He woke to find his foolish dreaming past,<br> And all his best-of-life the easy prey<br> Of squandering scamps and quacks that lined his way<br> With vile array,<br>From rascal statesman down to petty knave;<br>Himself, at best, for all his bragging brave,<br>A gamester's catspaw and a banker's slave.<br> Then, worn and gray, and sick with deep unrest,<br> He fled away into the oblivious West,<br> Unmourned, unblest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Old hill! old hill! thou gashed and hairy Lear<br>Whom the divine Cordelia of the year,<br>E'en pitying Spring, will vainly strive to cheer --<br> King, that no subject man nor beast may own,<br> Discrowned, undaughtered and alone --<br>Yet shall the great God turn thy fate,<br>And bring thee back into thy monarch state<br> And majesty immaculate.<br> Lo, through hot waverings of the August morn,<br> Thou givest from thy vasty sides forlorn<br> Visions of golden treasuries of corn --<br>Ripe largesse lingering for some bolder heart<br>That manfully shall take thy part,<br> And tend thee,<br> And defend thee,<br>With antique sinew and with modern art.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sidney+Lanier">Sidney Lanier</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=518809" data-title="Corn. de Sidney Lanier" data-description="To-day the woods are trembling through and through
With shimmering forms, that flash before my view,
Then melt in green as dawn-stars melt in blue.
 The leaves that wave against my cheek caress
 Like women's hands; the embracing boughs express
 A ..."></div>
</div>
</div>