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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519337" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Orpheus</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">WHEN Orpheus with his wind-swift fingers <br>Ripples the strings that gleam like rain, <br>The wheeling birds fly up and sing, <br>Hither, thither echoing; <br>There is a crackling of dry twigs, <br>A sweeping of leaves along the ground, <br>Fawny faces and dumb eyes <br>Peer through the fluttering screens <br>That mask ferocious teeth and claws <br>Now tranquil. <br>As the music sighs up the hill-side, <br>The young ones hear, <br>Come skipping, ambling, rolling down, <br>Their soft ears flapping as they run, <br>Their fleecy coats catching in the thickets, <br>Till they lie, listening, round his feet. <br>Unseen for centuries, <br>Fabulous creatures creep out of their caves, <br>The unicorn <br>Prances down from his bed of leaves, <br>His milk-white muzzle still stained green <br>With the munching, crunching of mountain-herbs. <br>The griffin, usually so fierce, <br>Now tame and amiable again, <br>Has covered the white bones in his secret cavern <br>With a rustling pall of dank dead leaves, <br>While the salamander, true lover of art, <br>Flickers, and creeps out of the flame; <br>Gently now, and away he goes, <br>Kindles his proud and blazing track <br>Across the forest, <br>Lies listening, <br>Cools his fever in the flowing waters of the lute.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">.......................</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But when the housewife returns, <br>Carrying her basket, <br>She will not understand. <br>She misses nothing, <br>Hears nothing. <br>She will only see <br>That the fire is dead, <br>The grate cold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">.......................</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But the child upstairs, <br>Alone, in the empty cottage, <br>Heard a strange wind, like music, <br>In the forest, <br>Saw something creep out of the fire.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sir+Osbert+Sitwell">Sir Osbert Sitwell</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=519337" data-title="Orpheus de Sir Osbert Sitwell" data-description="WHEN Orpheus with his wind-swift fingers 
Ripples the strings that gleam like rain, 
The wheeling birds fly up and sing, 
Hither, thither echoing; 
There is a crackling of dry twigs, 
A sweeping of leaves along the ground, 
Fawny faces and dumb ey..."></div>
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