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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538090" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To The River Arve</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not from the sands or cloven rocks,<br>Thou rapid Arve! thy waters flow;<br>Nor earth, within her bosom, locks<br>Thy dark unfathomed wells below.<br>Thy springs are in the cloud, thy stream<br>Begins to move and murmur first<br>Where ice-peaks feel the noonday beam,<br>Or rain-storms on the glacier burst.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Born where the thunder and the blast,<br>And morning's earliest light are born,<br>Thou rushest swoln, and loud, and fast,<br>By these low homes, as if in scorn:<br>Yet humbler springs yield purer waves;<br>And brighter, glassier streams than thine,<br>Sent up from earth's unlighted caves,<br>With heaven's own beam and image shine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet stay; for here are flowers and trees;<br>Warm rays on cottage roofs are here,<br>And laugh of girls, and hum of bees--<br>Here linger till thy waves are clear.<br>Thou heedest not--thou hastest on;<br>From steep to steep thy torrent falls,<br>Till, mingling with the mighty Rhone,<br>It rests beneath Geneva's walls.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Rush on--but were there one with me<br>That loved me, I would light my hearth<br>Here, where with God's own majesty<br>Are touched the features of the earth.<br>By these old peaks, white, high, and vast,<br>Still rising as the tempests beat,<br>Here would I dwell, and sleep, at last,<br>Among the blossoms at their feet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Cullen+Bryant">William Cullen Bryant</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=538090" data-title="To The River Arve de William Cullen Bryant" data-description="Not from the sands or cloven rocks,
Thou rapid Arve! thy waters flow;
Nor earth, within her bosom, locks
Thy dark unfathomed wells below.
Thy springs are in the cloud, thy stream
Begins to move and murmur first
Where ice-peaks feel the noonday bea..."></div>
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