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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=518858" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Marshes of Glynn</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Glooms of the live-oaks, beautiful-braided and woven <br>With intricate shades of the vines that myriad-cloven <br>Clamber the forks of the multiform boughs, -- <br>Emerald twilights, -- <br>Virginal shy lights, <br>Wrought of the leaves to allure to the whisper of vows, <br>When lovers pace timidly down through the green colonnades <br>Of the dim sweet woods, of the dear dark woods, <br>Of the heavenly woods and glades, <br>That run to the radiant marginal sand-beach within <br>The wide sea-marshes of Glynn; -- </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beautiful glooms, soft dusks in the noon-day fire, -- <br>Wildwood privacies, closets of lone desire, <br>Chamber from chamber parted with wavering arras of leaves, -- <br>Cells for the passionate pleasure of prayer to the soul that grieves, <br>Pure with a sense of the passing of saints through the wood, <br>Cool for the dutiful weighing of ill with good; -- </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>O braided dusks of the oak and woven shades of the vine, <br>While the riotous noon-day sun of the June-day long did shine <br>Ye held me fast in your heart and I held you fast in mine; <br>But now when the noon is no more, and riot is rest, <br>And the sun is a-wait at the ponderous gate of the West, <br>And the slant yellow beam down the wood-aisle doth seem <br>Like a lane into heaven that leads from a dream, -- <br>Ay, now, when my soul all day hath drunken the soul of the oak, <br>And my heart is at ease from men, and the wearisome sound of the stroke <br>Of the scythe of time and the trowel of trade is low, <br>And belief overmasters doubt, and I know that I know, <br>And my spirit is grown to a lordly great compass within, <br>That the length and the breadth and the sweep of the marshes of Glynn <br>Will work me no fear like the fear they have wrought me of yore <br>When length was fatigue, and when breadth was but bitterness sore, <br>And when terror and shrinking and dreary unnamable pain <br>Drew over me out of the merciless miles of the plain, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, now, unafraid, I am fain to face <br>The vast sweet visage of space. <br>To the edge of the wood I am drawn, I am drawn, <br>Where the gray beach glimmering runs, as a belt of the dawn, <br>For a mete and a mark <br>To the forest-dark: -- <br>So: <br>Affable live-oak, leaning low, -- <br>Thus -- with your favor -- soft, with a reverent hand, <br>(Not lightly touching your person, Lord of the land!) <br>Bending your beauty aside, with a step I stand <br>On the firm-packed sand, <br>Free <br>By a world of marsh that borders a world of sea. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sinuous southward and sinuous northward the shimmering band <br>Of the sand-beach fastens the fringe of the marsh to the folds of the land. <br>Inward and outward to northward and southward the beach-lines <br>linger and curl <br>As a silver-wrought garment that clings to and follows <br>the firm sweet limbs of a girl. <br>Vanishing, swerving, evermore curving again into sight, <br>Softly the sand-beach wavers away to a dim gray looping of light. <br>And what if behind me to westward the wall of the woods stands high? <br>The world lies east: how ample, the marsh and the sea and the sky! <br>A league and a league of marsh-grass, waist-high, broad in the blade, <br>Green, and all of a height, and unflecked with a light or a shade, <br>Stretch leisurely off, in a pleasant plain, <br>To the terminal blue of the main. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, what is abroad in the marsh and the terminal sea? <br>Somehow my soul seems suddenly free <br>From the weighing of fate and the sad discussion of sin, <br>By the length and the breadth and the sweep of the marshes of Glynn. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ye marshes, how candid and simple and nothing-withholding and free <br>Ye publish yourselves to the sky and offer yourselves to the sea! <br>Tolerant plains, that suffer the sea and the rains and the sun, <br>Ye spread and span like the catholic man who hath mightily won <br>God out of knowledge and good out of infinite pain <br>And sight out of blindness and purity out of a stain. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>As the marsh-hen secretly builds on the watery sod, <br>Behold I will build me a nest on the greatness of God: <br>I will fly in the greatness of God as the marsh-hen flies <br>In the freedom that fills all the space 'twixt the marsh and the skies: <br>By so many roots as the marsh-grass sends in the sod <br>I will heartily lay me a-hold on the greatness of God: <br>Oh, like to the greatness of God is the greatness within <br>The range of the marshes, the liberal marshes of Glynn. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the sea lends large, as the marsh: lo, out of his plenty the sea <br>Pours fast: full soon the time of the flood-tide must be: <br>Look how the grace of the sea doth go <br>About and about through the intricate channels that flow <br>Here and there, <br>Everywhere, <br>Till his waters have flooded the uttermost creeks and the low-lying lanes, <br>And the marsh is meshed with a million veins, <br>That like as with rosy and silvery essences flow <br>In the rose-and-silver evening glow. <br>Farewell, my lord Sun! <br>The creeks overflow: a thousand rivulets run <br>'Twixt the roots of the sod; the blades of the marsh-grass stir; <br>Passeth a hurrying sound of wings that westward whirr; <br>Passeth, and all is still; and the currents cease to run; <br>And the sea and the marsh are one. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">How still the plains of the waters be! <br>The tide is in his ecstasy. <br>The tide is at his highest height: <br>And it is night. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And now from the Vast of the Lord will the waters of sleep <br>Roll in on the souls of men, <br>But who will reveal to our waking ken <br>The forms that swim and the shapes that creep <br>Under the waters of sleep? <br>And I would I could know what swimmeth below when the tide comes in <br>On the length and the breadth of the marvellous marshes of Glynn.</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>
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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=518858" data-title="The Marshes of Glynn de Sidney Lanier" data-description="Glooms of the live-oaks, beautiful-braided and woven 
With intricate shades of the vines that myriad-cloven 
Clamber the forks of the multiform boughs, -- 
Emerald twilights, -- 
Virginal shy lights, 
Wrought of the leaves to allure to the whisper..."></div>
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