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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Song VIII: While Ye Deemed Him A-Sleeping</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Love is enough: while ye deemed him a-sleeping,<br>There were signs of his coming and sounds of his feet;<br>His touch it was that would bring you to weeping,<br>When the summer was deepest and music most sweet:<br>In his footsteps ye followed the day to its dying,<br>Ye went forth by his gown-skirts the morning to meet:<br>In his place on the beaten-down orchard-grass lying,<br>Of the sweet ways ye pondered left for life's trying. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, what was all dreaming of pleasure anear you,<br>To the time when his eyes on your wistful eyes turned,<br>And ye saw his lips move, and his head bent to hear you,<br>As new-born and glad to his kindness ye yearned?<br>Ah, what was all dreaming of anguish and sorrow,<br>To the time when the world in his torment was burned,<br>And no god your heart from its prison might borrow,<br>And no rest was left, no today, no tomorrow? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">All wonder of pleasure, all doubt of desire,<br>All blindness, are ended, and no more ye feel<br>If your feet treat his flowers or the flames of his fire,<br>If your breast meet his balms or the edge of his steel.<br>Change is come, and past over, no more strife, no more learning:<br>Now your lips and your forehead are sealed with his seal,<br>Look backward and smile at the thorns and the burning.<br>--Sweet rest, O my soul, and no fear of returning!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Morris">William Morris</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=538857" data-title="Song VIII: While Ye Deemed Him A-Sleeping de William Morris" data-description="Love is enough: while ye deemed him a-sleeping,
There were signs of his coming and sounds of his feet;
His touch it was that would bring you to weeping,
When the summer was deepest and music most sweet:
In his footsteps ye followed the day to its ..."></div>
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