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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=533765" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Spring Dirge</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A child came singing through the dusty town<br> A song so sweet that all men stayed to hear,<br> Forgetting for a space their ancient fear<br>Of evil days and death and fortune’s frown. <br>She sang of Winter dead and Spring new-born<br> In the green fields beyond the far hills’ bound;<br> And how this fair Spring, coming blossom-crowned,<br>Would cross the city’s threshold on the morn. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And each caged bird in every house anigh,<br> Even as she sang, caught up the glad refrain<br> Of Love and Hope and fair days come again,<br>Till all who heard forgot they had to die. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And all the ghosts of buried woes were laid<br> That heard the song of this sweet sorceress;<br> The Past grew to a dream of old distress,<br>And merry were the hearts of man and maid. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So, at the first faint blush of tender dawn,<br> Spring stole with noiseless steps through the gray gloom,<br> And men knew only by a strange perfume<br>That she had softly entered and withdrawn. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But ah! the lustre of her violet eyes<br> Was dimmed with tears for her sweet singing maid,<br> Whose voice would sound no more in shine or shade<br>To charm men’s souls at set of sun or rise. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">For there, with dews of dawn upon her hair,<br> Like a fair flower plucked and flung away,<br> Dead in the street the little maiden lay<br>Who gave new life to hearts nigh dead of care. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alas! must this be still the bitter doom<br> Awaiting those, the finer-souled of earth,<br> Who make for men a morning song of mirth<br>While yet the birds are dumb amid the gloom? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They walk on thorny ways with feet unshod,<br> Sing one last song, and die as that song dies.<br> There is no human hand to close their eyes,<br>And very heavy is the hand of God.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Victor+James+Daley">Victor James Daley</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=533765" data-title="Spring Dirge de Victor James Daley" data-description="A child came singing through the dusty town
 A song so sweet that all men stayed to hear,
 Forgetting for a space their ancient fear
Of evil days and death and fortune’s frown. 
She sang of Winter dead and Spring new-born
 In the green fields be..."></div>
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