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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=383801" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Minstrelsy</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=383801" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">For ever, since my childish looks<br>Could rest on Nature's pictured books;<br>For ever, since my childish tongue<br>Could name the themes our bards have sung;<br>So long, the sweetness of their singing<br>Hath been to me a rapture bringing!<br>Yet ask me not the reason why<br>I have delight in minstrelsy.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=383801" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I know that much whereof I sing,<br>Is shapen but for vanishing;<br>I know that summer's flower and leaf<br>And shine and shade are very brief,<br>And that the heart they brighten, may,<br>Before them all, be sheathed in clay! --<br>I do not know the reason why<br>I have delight in minstrelsy.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=383801" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">A few there are, whose smile and praise<br>My minstrel hope, would kindly raise:<br>But, of those few -- Death may impress<br>The lips of some with silentness;<br>While some may friendship's faith resign,<br>And heed no more a song of mine. --<br>Ask not, ask not the reason why<br>I have delight in minstrelsy.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=383801" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The sweetest song that minstrels sing,<br>Will charm not Joy to tarrying;<br>The greenest bay that earth can grow,<br>Will shelter not in burning woe;<br>A thousand voices will not cheer,<br>When one is mute that aye is dear! --<br>Is there, alas! no reason why<br>I have delight in minstrelsy.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=383801" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I do not know! The turf is green<br>Beneath the rain's fast-dropping sheen,<br>Yet asks not why that deeper hue<br>Doth all its tender leaves renew; --<br>And I, like-minded, am content,<br>While music to my soul is sent,<br>To question not the reason why<br>I have delight in minstrelsy.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=383801" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Years pass -- my life with them shall pass:<br>And soon, the cricket in the grass<br>And summer bird, shall louder sing<br>Than she who owns a minstrel's string.<br>Oh then may some, the dear and few,<br>Recall her love, whose truth they knew;<br>When all forget to question why<br>She had delight in minstrelsy!</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=Elizabeth+Barrett+Browning">Elizabeth Barrett Browning</a></strong></div>