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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=419571" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Bells For John Whiteside's Daughter</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=419571" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">There was such speed in her little body, <br>And such lightness in her footfall, <br>It is no wonder her brown study Astonishes us all </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=419571" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Her wars were bruited in our high window. <br>We looked among orchard trees and beyond <br>Where she took arms against her shadow, <br>Or harried unto the pond </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=419571" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The lazy geese, like a snow cloud <br>Dripping their snow on the green grass, <br>Tricking and stopping, sleepy and proud, <br>Who cried in goose, Alas, </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=419571" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">For the tireless heart within the little <br>Lady with rod that made them rise <br>From their noon apple-dreams and scuttle <br>Goose-fashion under the skies! </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=419571" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">But now go the bells, and we are ready, <br>In one house we are sternly stopped <br>To say we are vexed at her brown study, <br>Lying so primly propped.</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=John+Crowe+Ransom">John Crowe Ransom</a></strong></div>