Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=540071" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Oak and The Broom, The: A Pastoral Poem</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I </div><div style="margin:10px 0">His simple truths did Andrew glean <br>Beside the babbling rills; <br>A careful student he had been <br>Among the woods and hills. <br>One winter's night, when through the trees <br>The wind was roaring, on his knees <br>His youngest born did Andrew hold: <br>And while the rest, a ruddy quire, <br>Were seated round their blazing fire, <br>This Tale the Shepherd told. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">II </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;I saw a crag, a lofty stone <br>As ever tempest beat! <br>Out of its head an Oak had grown, <br>A Broom out of its feet. <br>The time was March, a cheerful noon-- <br>The thaw-wind, with the breath of June, <br>Breathed gently from the warm south-west: <br>When, in a voice sedate with age, <br>This Oak, a giant and a sage, <br>His neighbour thus addressed:-- </div><div style="margin:10px 0">III </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;'Eight weary weeks, through rock and clay, <br>Along this mountain's edge, <br>The Frost hath wrought both night and day, <br>Wedge driving after wedge. <br>Look up! and think, above your head <br>What trouble, surely, will be bred; <br>Last night I heard a crash--'tis true, <br>The splinters took another road-- <br>I see them yonder--what a load <br>For such a Thing as you! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;'You are preparing as before, <br>To deck your slender shape; <br>And yet, just three years back--no more-- <br>You had a strange escape: <br>Down from yon cliff a fragment broke; <br>It thundered down, with fire and smoke, <br>And hitherward pursued its way; <br>This ponderous block was caught by me, <br>And o'er your head, as you may see, <br>'Tis hanging to this day! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">V </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;'If breeze or bird to this rough steep <br>Your kind's first seed did bear; <br>The breeze had better been asleep, <br>The bird caught in a snare: <br>For you and your green twigs decoy <br>The little witless shepherd-boy <br>To come and slumber in your bower; <br>And, trust me, on some sultry noon, <br>Both you and he, Heaven knows how soon! <br>Will perish in one hour. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">VI </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;'From me this friendly warning take'-- <br>The Broom began to doze, <br>And thus, to keep herself awake, <br>Did gently interpose: <br>'My thanks for your discourse are due; <br>That more than what you say is true, <br>I know, and I have known it long; <br>Frail is the bond by which we hold <br>Our being, whether young or old, <br>Wise, foolish, weak, or strong. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">VII </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;'Disasters, do the best we can, <br>Will reach both great and small; <br>And he is oft the wisest man, <br>Who is not wise at all. <br>For me, why should I wish to roam? <br>This spot is my paternal home, <br>It is my pleasant heritage; <br>My father many a happy year, <br>Spread here his careless blossoms, here <br>Attained a good old age. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">VIII </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;'Even such as his may be my lot. <br>What cause have I to haunt <br>My heart with terrors? Am I not <br>In truth a favoured plant! <br>On me such bounty Summer pours, <br>That I am covered o'er with flowers; <br>And, when the Frost is in the sky, <br>My branches are so fresh and gay <br>That you might look at me and say, <br>This Plant can never die. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">IX </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;'The butterfly, all green and gold, <br>To me hath often flown, <br>Here in my blossoms to behold <br>Wings lovely as his own. <br>When grass is chill with rain or dew, <br>Beneath my shade, the mother-ewe <br>Lies with her infant lamb; I see <br>The love they to each other make, <br>And the sweet joy which they partake, <br>It is a joy to me.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">X </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Her voice was blithe, her heart was light; <br>The Broom might have pursued <br>Her speech, until the stars of night <br>Their journey had renewed; <br>But in the branches of the oak <br>Two ravens now began to croak <br>Their nuptial song, a gladsome air; <br>And to her own green bower the breeze <br>That instant brought two stripling bees <br>To rest, or murmur there. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XI </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;One night, my Children! from the north <br>There came a furious blast; <br>At break of day I ventured forth, <br>And near the cliff I passed. <br>The storm had fallen upon the Oak, <br>And struck him with a mighty stroke, <br>And whirled, and whirled him far away; <br>And, in one hospitable cleft, <br>The little careless Broom was left <br>To live for many a day.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Wordsworth">William Wordsworth</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<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=540071" data-title="Oak and The Broom, The: A Pastoral Poem de William Wordsworth" data-description="I 

His simple truths did Andrew glean 
Beside the babbling rills; 
A careful student he had been 
Among the woods and hills. 
One winter's night, when through the trees 
The wind was roaring, on his knees 
His youngest born did Andrew hold: 
And ..."></div>
</div>
</div>