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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=540273" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Yarrow Revisited</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">. The gallant Youth, who may have gained,<br> Or seeks, a &quot;winsome Marrow,&quot;<br> Was but an Infant in the lap<br> When first I looked on Yarrow;<br> Once more, by Newark's Castle-gate<br> Long left without a warder,<br> I stood, looked, listened, and with Thee,<br> Great Minstrel of the Border!<br> Grave thoughts ruled wide on that sweet day,<br> Their dignity installing<br> In gentle bosoms, while sere leaves<br> Were on the bough, or falling;<br> But breezes played, and sunshine gleamed-<br> The forest to embolden;<br> Reddened the fiery hues, and shot<br> Transparence through the golden.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> For busy thoughts the Stream flowed on<br> In foamy agitation;<br> And slept in many a crystal pool<br> For quiet contemplation:<br> No public and no private care<br> The freeborn mind enthralling,<br> We made a day of happy hours,<br> Our happy days recalling.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Brisk Youth appeared, the Morn of youth,<br> With freaks of graceful folly,-<br> Life's temperate Noon, her sober Eve,<br> Her Night not melancholy;<br> Past, present, future, all appeared<br> In harmony united,<br> Like guests that meet, and some from far,<br> By cordial love invited.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And if, as Yarrow, through the woods<br> And down the meadow ranging,<br> Did meet us with unaltered face,<br> Though we were changed and changing;<br> If, then, some natural shadows spread<br> Our inward prospect over,<br> The soul's deep valley was not slow<br> Its brightness to recover.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Eternal blessings on the Muse,<br> And her divine employment!<br> The blameless Muse, who trains her Sons<br> For hope and calm enjoyment;<br> Albeit sickness, lingering yet,<br> Has o'er their pillow brooded;<br> And Care waylays their steps-a Sprite<br> Not easily eluded.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> For thee, O Scott! compelled to change<br> Green Eildon-hill and Cheviot<br> For warm Vesuvio's vine-clad slopes;<br> And leave thy Tweed and Tiviot<br> For mild Sorrento's breezy waves;<br> May classic Fancy, linking<br> With native Fancy her fresh aid,<br> Preserve thy heart from sinking!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Oh! while they minister to thee,<br> Each vying with the other,<br> May Health return to mellow Age<br> With Strength, her venturous brother;<br> And Tiber, and each brook and rill<br> Renowned in song and story,<br> With unimagined beauty shine,<br> Nor lose one ray of glory!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> For Thou, upon a hundred streams,<br> By tales of love and sorrow,<br> Of faithful love, undaunted truth<br> Hast shed the power of Yarrow;<br> And streams unknown, hills yet unseen,<br> Wherever they invite Thee,<br> At parent Nature's grateful call,<br> With gladness must requite Thee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> A gracious welcome shall be thine,<br> Such looks of love and honour<br> As thy own Yarrow gave to me<br> When first I gazed upon her;<br> Beheld what I had feared to see,<br> Unwilling to surrender<br> Dreams treasured up from early days,<br> The holy and the tender.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And what, for this frail world, were all<br> That mortals do or suffer,<br> Did no responsive harp, no pen,<br> Memorial tribute offer?<br> Yea, what were mighty Nature's self?<br> Her features, could they win us,<br> Unhelped by the poetic voice<br> That hourly speaks within us?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Nor deem that localized Romance<br> Plays false with our affections;<br> Unsanctifies our tears-made sport<br> For fanciful dejections:<br> Ah, no! the visions of the past<br> Sustain the heart in feeling<br> Life as she is-our changeful Life,<br> With friends and kindred dealing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Bear witness, Ye, whose thoughts that day<br> In Yarrow's groves were centred;<br> Who through the silent portal arch<br> Of mouldering Newark entered;<br> And clomb the winding stair that once<br> Too timidly was mounted<br> By the &quot;last Minstrel,&quot;(not the last!)<br> Ere he his Tale recounted.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Flow on for ever, Yarrow Stream!<br> Fulfil thy pensive duty,<br> Well pleased that future Bards should chant<br> For simple hearts thy beauty;<br> To dream-light dear while yet unseen,<br> Dear to the common sunshine,<br> And dearer still, as now I feel,<br> To memory's shadowy moonshine!</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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 Or seeks, a &quot;winsome Marrow,&quot;
 Was but an Infant in the lap
 When first I looked on Yarrow;
 Once more, by Newark's Castle-gate
 Long left without a warder,
 I stood, looked, listened, and with ..."></div>
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