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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=540150" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Oak And The Broom</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A Pastoral </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">'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">''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">''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">''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">''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">''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">''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">''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">'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">'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.'</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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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:..."></div>
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