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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=537554" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Catharina</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">She came--she is gone--we have met--<br>And meet perhaps never again;<br>The sun of that moment is set,<br>And seems to have risen in vain.<br>Catharina has fled like a dream<br>(So vanishes pleasure, alas!)--<br>But has left a regret and esteem<br>That will not so suddenly pass.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The last evening ramble we made,<br>Catharina, Maria, and I,<br>Our progress was often delay’d<br>By the nightingale warbling nigh.<br>We paused under many a tree,<br>And much she was charm'd with a tone,<br>Less sweet to Maria and me,<br>Who so lately had witness'd her own.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My numbers that day she had sung,<br>And gave them a grace so divine,<br>As only her musical tongue<br>Could infuse into numbers of mine.<br>The longer I heard, I esteem'd<br>The work of my fancy the more,<br>And e'en to myself never seem'd<br>So tuneful a poet before.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though the pleasures of London exceed<br>In number the days of the year,<br>Catharina, did nothing impede,<br>Would feel herself happier here;<br>For the close-woven arches of limes<br>On the banks of our river, I know,<br>Are sweeter to her many times<br>Than aught that the city can show.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So it is when the mind is endued<br>With a well-judging taste from above,<br>Then, whether embellish'd or rude,<br>'Tis nature alone that we love.<br>The achievements of art may amuse,<br>May even our wonder excite;<br>But groves, hills, and valleys diffuse<br>A lasting, a sacred delight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Since then in the rural recess<br>Catharina alone can rejoice,<br>May it still be her lot to possess<br>The scene of her sensible choice!<br>To inhabit a mansion remote<br>From the clatter of street-pacing steeds,<br>And by Philomel's annual note<br>To measure the life that she leads.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With her book, and her voice, and her lyre,<br>To wing all her moments at home;<br>And with scenes that new rapture inspire,<br>As oft as it suits her to roam;<br>She will have just the life she prefers,<br>With little to hope or to fear,<br>And ours would be pleasant as hers,<br>Might we view her enjoying it here.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Cowper">William Cowper</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=537554" data-title="Catharina de William Cowper" data-description="She came--she is gone--we have met--
And meet perhaps never again;
The sun of that moment is set,
And seems to have risen in vain.
Catharina has fled like a dream
(So vanishes pleasure, alas!)--
But has left a regret and esteem
That will not so su..."></div>
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