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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=408167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Rumors from an Aeolian Harp</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=408167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">There is a vale which none hath seen, <br>Where foot of man has never been, <br>Such as here lives with toil and strife, <br>An anxious and a sinful life. <br>There every virtue has its birth, <br>Ere it descends upon the earth, <br>And thither every deed returns, <br>Which in the generous bosom burns. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=408167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">There love is warm, and youth is young, <br>And poetry is yet unsung. <br>For Virtue still adventures there, <br>And freely breathes her native air. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=408167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And ever, if you hearken well, <br>You still may hear its vesper bell, <br>And tread of high-souled men go by, <br>Their thoughts conversing with the sky.</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=Henry+David+Thoreau">Henry David Thoreau</a></strong></div>

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