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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=340175" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>I Always Like The Northern Birches</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=340175" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I always s like the northern birches:<br>Their view, so downcast and grave, <br>The fever, which poor souls scorches,<br>Cools like the mute speech of a grave.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=340175" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">But yet, the willow, which branches,<br>With their long leaves, cast in a flood,<br>Is closer to a dream, that scourges,<br>And longer lives in our heart.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=340175" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Deploring groves their own, <br>Their meadows – with bitter tears,<br>Tell birches to cold wind alone<br>Their common sufferings and fears.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=340175" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Believing that the whole ground<br>Is motherland of sacred grieves,<br>The weeping willow all around<br>Inclines its branches with long leaves.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Afanasy+Afanasyevich+Fet">Afanasy Afanasyevich Fet</a></strong></div>

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