<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=559887" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Italian Myrtles</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">By many a soft Ligurian bay<br>The myrtles glisten green and bright,<br>Gleam with their flowers of snow by day,<br>And glow with fire-flies through the night,<br>And yet, despite the cold and heat,<br>Are ever fresh, and pure, and sweet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is an island in the West,<br>Where living myrtles bloom and blow,<br>Hearts where the fire-fly Love my rest<br>Within a paradise of snow-<br>Which yet, despite the cold and heat,<br>Are ever fresh, and pure, and sweet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Deep in that gentle breast of thine-<br>Like fire and snow within the pearl-<br>Let purity and love combine,<br>O warm, pure-hearted Irish girl!<br>And in the cold and in the heat<br>Be ever fresh, and pure, and sweet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thy bosom bears as pure a snow<br>As e'er Italia's bowers can boast,<br>And though no fire-fly lends its glow-<br>As on the soft Ligurian coast-<br>'Tis warmed by an internal heat<br>Which ever keeps it pure and sweet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The fire-flies fade on misty eves-<br>The inner fires alone endure;<br>Like rain that wets the leaves,<br>Thy very sorrows keep thee pure-<br>They temper a too ardent heat-<br>And keep thee ever pure and sweet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Denis+Florence+MacCarthy">Denis Florence MacCarthy</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=559887" data-title="Italian Myrtles de Denis Florence MacCarthy" data-description="By many a soft Ligurian bay The myrtles glisten green and bright, Gleam with their flowers of snow by day, And glow with fire-flies through the night, And yet, despite the cold and heat, Are ever fresh, and pure, and sweet. There is an island in ..."></div> </div> </div>

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