<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=534875" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Postcard From The Volcano</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Children picking up our bones <br>Will never know that these were once <br>As quick as foxes on the hill; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And that in autumn, when the grapes <br>Made sharp air sharper by their smell <br>These had a being, breathing frost; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And least will guess that with our bones <br>We left much more, left what still is <br>The look of things, left what we felt </div><div style="margin:10px 0">At what we saw. The spring clouds blow <br>Above the shuttered mansion house, <br>Beyond our gate and the windy sky </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cries out a literate despair. <br>We knew for long the mansion's look <br>And what we said of it became </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A part of what it is ... Children, <br>Still weaving budded aureoles, <br>Will speak our speech and never know, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Will say of the mansion that it seems <br>As if he that lived there left behind <br>A spirit storming in blank walls, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A dirty house in a gutted world, <br>A tatter of shadows peaked to white, <br>Smeared with the gold of the opulent sun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Wallace+Stevens">Wallace Stevens</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=534875" data-title="A Postcard From The Volcano de Wallace Stevens" data-description="Children picking up our bones Will never know that these were once As quick as foxes on the hill; And that in autumn, when the grapes Made sharp air sharper by their smell These had a being, breathing frost; And least will guess that with ..."></div> </div> </div>

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