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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=539773" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Dedication Of 'The Dream Of Man' To London, My Hostess</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">City that waitest to be sung,--<br>For whom no hand<br>To mighty strains the lyre hath strung<br>In all this land,<br>Though mightier theme the mightiest ones<br>Sang not of old,<br>The thrice three sisters' godlike sons<br>With lips of gold,--<br>Till greater voice thy greatness sing<br>In loftier times,<br>Suffer an alien muse to bring<br>Her votive rhymes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes, alien in thy midst am I,<br>Not of thy brood;<br>The nursling of a norland sky<br>Of rougher mood:<br>To me, thy tarrying guest, to me,<br>'Mid thy loud hum,<br>Strayed visions of the moor or sea<br>Tormenting come.<br>Above the thunder of the wheels<br>That hurry by,<br>From lapping of lone waves there steals<br>A far-sent sigh;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And many a dream-reared mountain crest<br>My feet have trod,<br>There where thy Minster in the West<br>Gropes toward God.<br>Yet, from thy presence if I go,<br>By woodlands deep<br>Or ocean-fringes, thou, I know,<br>Wilt haunt my sleep;<br>Thy restless tides of life will foam,<br>Still, in my sight;<br>Thy imperturbable dark dome<br>Will crown my night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O sea of living waves that roll<br>On golden sands,<br>Or break on tragic reef and shoal<br>'Mid fatal lands;<br>O forest wrought of living leaves,<br>Some filled with Spring,<br>Where joy life's festal raiment weaves<br>And all birds sing,--<br>Some trampled in the miry ways,<br>Or whirled along<br>By fury of tempestuous days,--<br>Take thou my song!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For thou hast scorned not heretofore<br>The gifts of rhyme<br>I dropped, half faltering, at thy door,<br>City sublime;<br>And though 'tis true I am but guest<br>Within thy gate,<br>Unto thy hands I owe the best<br>Awards of fate.<br>Imperial hostess! thanks from me<br>To thee belong:<br>O living forest, living sea,<br>Take thou my song!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Watson">William Watson</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=539773" data-title="Dedication Of 'The Dream Of Man' To London, My Hostess de William Watson" data-description="City that waitest to be sung,--
For whom no hand
To mighty strains the lyre hath strung
In all this land,
Though mightier theme the mightiest ones
Sang not of old,
The thrice three sisters' godlike sons
With lips of gold,--
Till greater voice thy ..."></div>
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