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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538884" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Message Of The March Wind</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fair now is the springtide, now earth lies beholding<br>With the eyes of a lover, the face of the sun;<br>Long lasteth the daylight, and hope is enfolding<br>The green-growing acres with increase begun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now sweet, sweet it is through the land to be straying<br>’Mid the birds and the blossoms and the beasts of the field;<br>Love mingles with love, and no evil is weighing<br>On thy heart or mine, where all sorrow is healed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">From township to township, o’er down and by tillage<br>Fair, far have we wandered and long was the day;<br>But now cometh eve at the end of the village,<br>Where over the grey wall the church riseth grey.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is wind in the twilight; in the white road before us<br>The straw from the ox-yard is blowing about;<br>The moon’s rim is rising, a star glitters o’er us,<br>And the vane on the spire-top is swinging in doubt.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Down there dips the highway, toward the bridge crossing over<br>The brook that runs on to the Thames and the sea.<br>Draw closer, my sweet, we are lover and lover;<br>This eve art thou given to gladness and me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shall we be glad always? Come closer and hearken:<br>Three fields further on, as they told me down there,<br>When the young moon has set, if the March sky should darken<br>We might see from the hill-top the great city’s glare.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hark, the wind in the elm-boughs! from London it bloweth,<br>And telleth of gold, and of hope and unrest;<br>Of power that helps not; of wisdom that knoweth,<br>But teacheth not aught of the worst and the best.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of the rich men it telleth, and strange is the story<br>How they have, and they hanker, and grip far and wide;<br>And they live and they die, and the earth and its glory<br>Has been but a burden they scarce might abide.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hark! the March wind again of a people is telling;<br>Of the life that they live there, so haggard and grim,<br>That if we and our love amidst them had been dwelling<br>My fondness had faltered, thy beauty grown dim.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This land we have loved in our love and our leisure<br>For them hangs in heaven, high out of their reach;<br>The wide hills o’er the sea-plain for them have no pleasure,<br>The grey homes of their fathers no story to teach.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The singers have sung and the builders have builded,<br>The painters have fashioned their tales of delight;<br>For what and for whom hath the world’s book been gilded,<br>When all is for these but the blackness of night?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How long, and for what is their patience abiding?<br>How oft and how oft shall their story be told,<br>While the hope that none seeketh in darkness is hiding,<br>And in grief and in sorrow the world groweth old?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Come back to the inn, love, and the lights and the fire,<br>And the fiddler’s old tune and the shuffling of feet;<br>For there in a while shall be rest and desire,<br>And there shall the morrow’s uprising be sweet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet, love, as we wend, the wind bloweth behind us,<br>And beareth the last tale it telleth to-night,<br>How here in the spring-tide the message shall find us;<br>For the hope that none seeketh is coming to light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Like the seed of midwinter, unheeded, unperished,<br>Like the autumn-sown wheat ’neath the snow lying green,<br>Like the love that o’ertook us, unawares and uncherished,<br>Like the babe ’neath thy girdle that groweth unseen;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So the hope of the people now buddeth and groweth,<br>Rest fadeth before it, and blindness and fear;<br>It biddeth us learn all the wisdom it knoweth;<br>It hath found us and held us, and biddeth us hear:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For it beareth the message: “Rise up on the morrow<br>And go on your ways toward the doubt and the strife;<br>Join hope to our hope and blend sorrow with sorrow,<br>And seek for men’s love in the short days of life.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But lo, the old inn, and the lights, and the fire,<br>And the fiddler’s old tune and the shuffling of feet;<br>Soon for us shall be quiet and rest and desire,<br>And to-morrow’s uprising to deeds shall be sweet.</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=538884" data-title="The Message Of The March Wind de William Morris" data-description="Fair now is the springtide, now earth lies beholding
With the eyes of a lover, the face of the sun;
Long lasteth the daylight, and hope is enfolding
The green-growing acres with increase begun.

Now sweet, sweet it is through the land to be strayi..."></div>
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