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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=579026" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Wistful Days</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=579026" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">What is there wanting in the Spring?<br>The air is soft as yesteryear;<br>The happy-nested green is here,<br>And half the world is on the wing.<br>The morning beckons, and like balm <br>Are westward waters blue and calm.<br>Yet something’s wanting in the Spring.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=579026" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">What is it wanting in the Spring?<br>O April, lover to us all,<br>What is so poignant in thy thrall <br>When children’s merry voices ring?<br>What haunts us in the cooing dove<br>More subtle than the speech of Love,<br>What nameless lack or loss of Spring?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=579026" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Let Youth go dally with the Spring, <br>Call her the dear, the fair, the young;<br>And all her graces ever sung<br>Let him, once more rehearsing, sing.<br>They know, who keep a broken tryst,<br>Till something from the Spring be missed <br>We have not truly known the Spring.</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=Robert+Underwood+Johnson">Robert Underwood Johnson</a></strong></div>

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