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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=540126" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Danish Boy: A Fragment</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Between two sister moorland rills <br>There is a spot that seems to lie <br>Sacred to flowerets of the hills, <br>And sacred to the sky. <br>And in this smooth and open dell <br>There is a tempest-stricken tree; <br>A corner-stone by lightning cut, <br>The last stone of a lonely hut; <br>And in this dell you see <br>A thing no storm can e'er destroy, <br>The shadow of a Danish Boy. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">II </div><div style="margin:10px 0">In clouds above, the lark is heard, <br>But drops not here to earth for rest; <br>Within this lonesome nook the bird <br>Did never build her nest. <br>No beast, no bird hath here his home; <br>Bees, wafted on the breezy air, <br>Pass high above those fragrant bells <br>To other flowers:--to other dells <br>Their burthens do they bear; <br>The Danish Boy walks here alone: <br>The lovely dell is all his own. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">III </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A Spirit of noon-day is he; <br>Yet seems a form of flesh and blood; <br>Nor piping shepherd shall he be, <br>Nor herd-boy of the wood. <br>A regal vest of fur he wears, <br>In colour like a raven's wing; <br>It fears not rain, nor wind, nor dew; <br>But in the storm 'tis fresh and blue <br>As budding pines in spring; <br>His helmet has a vernal grace, <br>Fresh as the bloom upon his face. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A harp is from his shoulder slung; <br>Resting the harp upon his knee, <br>To words of a forgotten tongue <br>He suits its melody. <br>Of flocks upon the neighbouring hill <br>He is the darling and the joy; <br>And often, when no cause appears, <br>The mountain-ponies prick their ears, <br>--They hear the Danish Boy, <br>While in the dell he sings alone <br>Beside the tree and corner-stone. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">V </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There sits he; in his face you spy <br>No trace of a ferocious air, <br>Nor ever was a cloudless sky <br>So steady or so fair. <br>The lovely Danish Boy is blest <br>And happy in his flowery cove: <br>From bloody deeds his thoughts are far; <br>And yet he warbles songs of war, <br>That seem like songs of love, <br>For calm and gentle is his mien; <br>Like a dead Boy he is serene.</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>
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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=540126" data-title="The Danish Boy: A Fragment de William Wordsworth" data-description="I 

Between two sister moorland rills 
There is a spot that seems to lie 
Sacred to flowerets of the hills, 
And sacred to the sky. 
And in this smooth and open dell 
There is a tempest-stricken tree; 
A corner-stone by lightning cut, 
The last st..."></div>
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