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=519164" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Tantramar Revisited</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Summers and summers have come, and gone with the flight of the swallow;<br> Sunshine and thunder have been, storm, and winter, and frost;<br> Many and many a sorrow has all but died from remembrance,<br> Many a dream of joy fall'n in the shadow of pain.<br> Hands of chance and change have marred, or moulded, or broken,<br> Busy with spirit or flesh, all I most have adored;<br> Even the bosom of Earth is strewn with heavier shadows, -- <br> Only in these green hills, aslant to the sea, no change!<br> Here where the road that has climbed from the inland valleys and woodlands,<br> Dips from the hill-tops down, straight to the base of the hills, -- <br> Here, from my vantage-ground, I can see the scattering houses, <br> Stained with time, set warm in orchards, meadows, and wheat, <br> Dotting the broad bright slopes outspread to southward and eastward, <br> Wind-swept all day long, blown by the south-east wind. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Skirting the sunbright uplands stretches a riband of meadow, <br> Shorn of the labouring grass, bulwarked well from the sea, <br> Fenced on its seaward border with long clay dykes from the turbid <br> Surge and flow of the tides vexing the Westmoreland shores. <br> Yonder, toward the left, lie broad the Westmoreland marshes, -- <br> Miles on miles they extend, level, and grassy, and dim, <br> Clear from the long red sweep of flats to the sky in the distance, <br> Save for the outlying heights, green-rampired Cumberland Point; <br> Miles on miles outrolled, and the river-channels divide them, -- <br> Miles on miles of green, barred by the hurtling gusts. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Miles on miles beyond the tawny bay is Minudie. <br> There are the low blue hills; villages gleam at their feet. <br> Nearer a white sail shines across the water, and nearer <br> Still are the slim, grey masts of fishing boats dry on the flats. <br> Ah, how well I remember those wide red flats, above tide-mark <br> Pale with scurf of the salt, seamed and baked in the sun! <br> Well I remember the piles of blocks and ropes, and the net-reels <br> Wound with the beaded nets, dripping and dark from the sea! <br> Now at this season the nets are unwound; they hang from the rafters <br> Over the fresh-stowed hay in upland barns, and the wind <br> Blows all day through the chinks, with the streaks of sunlight, and sways them<br> Softly at will; or they lie heaped in the gloom of a loft. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Now at this season the reels are empty and idle; I see them <br> Over the lines of the dykes, over the gossiping grass. <br> Now at this season they swing in the long strong wind, thro' the lonesome <br> Golden afternoon, shunned by the foraging gulls. <br> Near about sunset the crane will journey homeward above them; <br> Round them, under the moon, all the calm night long, <br> Winnowing soft grey wings of marsh-owls wander and wander, <br> Now to the broad, lit marsh, now to the dusk of the dike. <br> Soon, thro' their dew-wet frames, in the live keen freshness of morning,<br> Out of the teeth of the dawn blows back the awakening wind. <br> Then, as the blue day mounts, and the low-shot shafts of the sunlight <br> Glance from the tide to the shore, gossamers jewelled with dew <br> Sparkle and wave, where late sea-spoiling fathoms of drift-net <br> Myriad-meshed, uploomed sombrely over the land. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Well I remember it all. The salt, raw scent of the margin; <br> While, with men at the windlass, groaned each reel, and the net, <br> Surging in ponderous lengths, uprose and coiled in its station; <br> Then each man to his home, -- well I remember it all! </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Yet, as I sit and watch, this present peace of the landscape, -- <br> Stranded boats, these reels empty and idle, the hush, <br> One grey hawk slow-wheeling above yon cluster of haystacks, -- <br> More than the old-time stir this stillness welcomes me home. <br> Ah, the old-time stir, how once it stung me with rapture, -- <br> Old-time sweetness, the winds freighted with honey and salt! <br> Yet will I stay my steps and not go down to the marshland, -- <br> Muse and recall far off, rather remember than see, -- <br> Lest on too close sight I miss the darling illusion, <br> Spy at their task even here the hands of chance and change.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sir+Charles+George+Douglas+Roberts">Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts</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=519164" data-title="Tantramar Revisited de Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts" data-description="Summers and summers have come, and gone with the flight of the swallow;
 Sunshine and thunder have been, storm, and winter, and frost;
 Many and many a sorrow has all but died from remembrance,
 Many a dream of joy fall'n in the shadow of pain.
 H..."></div>
</div>
</div>