<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=533880" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Boaz Asleep</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Boaz, overcome with weariness, by torchlight <br>made his pallet on the threshing floor <br>where all day he had worked, and now he slept <br>among the bushels of threshed wheat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The old man owned wheatfields and barley, <br>and though he was rich, he was still fair-minded. <br>No filth soured the sweetness of his well. <br>No hot iron of torture whitened in his forge.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His beard was silver as a brook in April. <br>He bound sheaves without the strain of hate <br>or envy. He saw gleaners pass, and said, <br>Let handfuls of the fat ears fall to them.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The man's mind, clear of untoward feeling, <br>clothed itself in candor. He wore clean robes. <br>His heaped granaries spilled over always <br>toward the poor, no less than public fountains.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Boaz did well by his workers and by kinsmen. <br>He was generous, and moderate. Women held him <br>worthier than younger men, for youth is handsome, <br>but to him in his old age came greatness.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An old man, nearing his first source, may find <br>the timelessness beyond times of trouble. <br>And though fire burned in young men's eyes, <br>to Ruth the eyes of Boaz shone clear light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Victor+Hugo">Victor Hugo</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=533880" data-title="Boaz Asleep de Victor Hugo" data-description="Boaz, overcome with weariness, by torchlight made his pallet on the threshing floor where all day he had worked, and now he slept among the bushels of threshed wheat. The old man owned wheatfields and barley, and though he was rich, he was st..."></div> </div> </div>

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