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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=523209" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Snowdrop In The Snow</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">O full of Faith! The Earth is rock,-the Heaven<br>The dome of a great palace all of ice,<br>Russ-built. Dull light distils through frozen skies<br>Thickened and gross. Cold Fancy droops her wing,<br>And cannot range. In winding-sheets of snow<br>Lies every thought of any pleasant thing.<br>I have forgotten the green earth; my soul<br>Deflowered, and lost to every summer hope,<br>Sad sitteth on an iceberg at the Pole;<br>My heart assumes the landscape of mine eyes<br>Moveless and white, chill blanched with hoarest rime;<br>The Sun himself is heavy and lacks cheer<br>Or on the eastern hill or western slope;<br>The world without seems far and long ago;<br>To silent woods stark famished winds have driven<br>The last lean robin-gibbering winds of fear!<br>Thou only darest to believe in spring,<br>Thou only smilest, Lady of the Time!<br>Even as the stars come up out of the sea<br>Thou risest from the Earth. How is it down<br>In the dark depths? Should I delve there, O Flower,<br>For beauty? Shall I find the summer there<br>Met manifold, as in an ark of peace?<br>And Thou, a lone white Dove, art thou sent forth<br>Upon the winter deluge? It shall cease,<br>But not for thee-pierced by the ruthless North<br>And spent with the Evangel. In what hour<br>The flood abates thou wilt have closed thy wings<br>For ever. When the happy living things<br>Of the old world come forth upon the new<br>I know my heart shall miss thee; and the dew<br>Of summer twilights shall shed tears for me<br>-Tears liker thee, ah, purest! than mine own-<br>Upon thy vestal grave, O vainly fair!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Thou should'st have noble destiny, who, like<br>A Prophet, art shut out from kind and kin:<br>Who on the winter silence comest in<br>A still small voice. Pale Hermit of the Year,<br>Flower of the Wilderness! oh, not for thee<br>The jocund playmates of the maiden spring.<br>For when she danceth forth with cymballed feet,<br>Waking a-sudden with great welcoming,<br>Each calling each, they burst from hill to dell<br>In answering music. But thou art a bell,<br>A passing bell, snow-muffled, dim and sweet.<br>As is the Poet to his fellow-men,<br>So mid thy drifting snows, O Snowdrop, Thou.<br>Gifted, in sooth, beyond them, but no less<br>A snowdrop. And thou shalt complete his lot<br>And bloom as fair as now when they are not.<br>Thou art the wonder of the seasons, O<br>First-born of Beauty. As the Angel near<br>Gazed on that first of living things which, when<br>The blast that ruled since Chaos o'er the sere<br>Leaves of primeval Palms did sweep the plain,<br>Clung to the new-made sod and would not drive,<br>So gaze I upon thee amid the reign<br>Of Winter. And because thou livest, I live.<br>And art thou happy in thy loneliness?<br>Oh couldst thou hear the shouting of the floods,<br>Oh couldst thou know the stir among the trees<br>When-as the herald-voice of breeze on breeze<br>Proclaims the marriage pageant of the Spring<br>Advancing from the South-each hurries on<br>His wedding-garment, and the love-chimes ring<br>Thro' nuptial valleys! No, serene and lone,<br>I will not flush thy cheek with joys like these.<br>Songs for the rosy morning; at grey prime<br>To hang the head and pray. Thou doest well.<br>I will not tell thee of the bridal train.<br>No; let thy Moonlight die before their day<br>A Nun among the Maidens, thou and they.<br>Each hath some fond sweet office that doth strike<br>One of our trembling heartstrings musical.<br>Is not the hawthorn for the Queen of May?<br>And cuckoo-flowers for whom the cuckoo's voice<br>Hails, like an answering sister, to the woods?<br>Is not the maiden blushing in the rose?<br>Shall not the babe and buttercup rejoice,<br>Twins in one meadow! Are not violets all<br>By name or nature for the breast of Dames?<br>For them the primrose, pale as star of prime,<br>For them the wind-flower, trembling to a sigh,<br>For them the dew stands in the eyes of day<br>That blink in April on the daisied lea?<br>Like them they flourish and like them they fade,<br>And live beloved and loving. But for thee-<br>For such a bevy how art thou arrayed,<br>Flower of the Tempests? What hast thou with them?<br>Thou shalt be pearl unto a diadem<br>Which the Heavens jewel. They shall deck the brows<br>Of joy and wither there. But thou shalt be<br>A Martyr's garland. Thou who, undismayed,<br>To thy spring dreams art true amid the snows<br>As he to better dreams amid the flames.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sydney+Thompson+Dobell">Sydney Thompson Dobell</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=523209" data-title="The Snowdrop In The Snow de Sydney Thompson Dobell" data-description="O full of Faith! The Earth is rock,-the Heaven
The dome of a great palace all of ice,
Russ-built. Dull light distils through frozen skies
Thickened and gross. Cold Fancy droops her wing,
And cannot range. In winding-sheets of snow
Lies every thoug..."></div>
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