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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=539861" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Bereavement of the Fields</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">1 Soft fall the February snows, and soft <br>2 Falls on my heart the snow of wintry pain;<br>3 For never more, by wood or field or croft,<br>4 Will he we knew walk with his loved again;<br>5 No more, with eyes adream and soul aloft,<br>6 In those high moods where love and beauty reign,<br>7 Greet his familiar fields, his skies without a stain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">8 Soft fall the February snows, and deep,<br>9 Like downy pinions from the moulting breast<br>10 Of all the mothering sky, round his hushed sleep,<br>11 Flutter a million loves upon his rest,<br>12 Where once his well-loved flowers were fain to peep,<br>13 With adder-tongue and waxen petals prest,<br>14 In young spring evenings reddening down the west.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">15 Soft fall the February snows, and hushed<br>16 Seems life's loud action, all its strife removed,<br>17 Afar, remote, where grief itself seems crushed,<br>18 And even hope and sorrow are reproved;<br>19 For he whose cheek erstwhile with hope was flushed,<br>20 And by the gentle haunts of being moved,<br>21 Hath gone the way of all he dreamed and loved.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">22 Soft fall the February snows, and lost,<br>23 This tender spirit gone with scarce a tear,<br>24 Ere, loosened from the dungeons of the frost,<br>25 Wakens with yearnings new the enfranchised year,<br>26 Late winter-wizened, gloomed, and tempest-tost;<br>27 And Hesper's gentle, delicate veils appear,<br>28 When dream anew the days of hope and fear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">29 And Mother Nature, she whose heart is fain,<br>30 Yea, she who grieves not, neither faints nor fails,<br>31 Building the seasons, she will bring again<br>32 March with rudening madness of wild gales,<br>33 April and her wraiths of tender rain,<br>34 And all he loved,—this soul whom memory veils,<br>35 Beyond the burden of our strife and pain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">36 Not his to wake the strident note of song,<br>37 Nor pierce the deep recesses of the heart,<br>38 Those tragic wells, remote, of might and wrong;<br>39 But rather, with those gentler souls apart,<br>40 He dreamed like his own summer days along,<br>41 Filled with the beauty born of his own heart,<br>42 Sufficient in the sweetness of his song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">43 Outside this prison-house of all our tears,<br>44 Enfranchised from our sorrow and our wrong,<br>45 Beyond the failure of our days and years,<br>46 Beyond the burden of our saddest song,<br>47 He moves with those whose music filled his ears,<br>48 And claimed his gentle spirit from the throng,—<br>49 Wordsworth, Arnold, Keats, high masters of his song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">50 Like some rare Pan of those old Grecian days,<br>51 Here in our hours of deeper stress reborn,<br>52 Unfortunate thrown upon life's evil ways,<br>53 His inward ear heard ever that satyr horn<br>54 From Nature's lips reverberate night and morn,<br>55 And fled from men and all their troubled maze,<br>56 Standing apart, with sad, incurious gaze.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">57 And now, untimely cut, like some sweet flower<br>58 Plucked in the early summer of its prime,<br>59 Before it reached the fulness of its dower,<br>60 He withers in the morning of our time;<br>61 Leaving behind him, like a summer shower,<br>62 A fragrance of earth's beauty, and the chime<br>63 Of gentle and imperishable rhyme.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">64 Songs in our ears of winds and flowers and buds<br>65 And gentle loves and tender memories<br>66 Of Nature's sweetest aspects, her pure moods,<br>67 Wrought from the inward truth of intimate eyes<br>68 And delicate ears of him who harks and broods,<br>69 And, nightly pondering, daily grows more wise,<br>70 And dreams and sees in mighty solitudes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">71 Soft fall the February snows, and soft<br>72 He sleeps in peace upon the breast of her<br>73 He loved the truest; where, by wood and croft,<br>74 The wintry silence folds in fleecy blur<br>75 About his silence, while in glooms aloft<br>76 The mighty forest fathers, without stir,<br>77 Guard well the rest of him, their rare sweet worshipper.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Wilfred+Campbell">William Wilfred Campbell</a><div class=q>
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2 Falls on my heart the snow of wintry pain;
3 For never more, by wood or field or croft,
4 Will he we knew walk with his loved again;
5 No more, with eyes adream and soul aloft,
6 In those high moods wher..."></div>
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