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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116231" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Time's Revenges</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I've a Friend, over the sea;<br>I like him, but he loves me.<br>It all grew out of the books I write;<br>They find such favour in his sight<br>That he slaughters you with savage looks<br>Because you don't admire my books.<br>He does himself though,--and if some vein<br>Were to snap tonight in this heavy brain,<br>To-morrow month, if I lived to try,<br>Round should I just turn quietly,<br>Or out of the bedclothes stretch my hand<br>Till I found him, come from his foreign land<br>To be my nurse in this poor place,<br>And make my broth and wash my face<br>And light my fire and, all the while,<br>Bear with his old good-humoured smile<br>That I told him "Better have kept away<br>Than come and kill me, night and day,<br>With, worse than fever throbs and shoots,<br>The creaking of his clumsy boots."<br>I am as sure that this he would do,<br>As that Saint Paul's is striking two.<br>And I think I rather . . . woe is me!<br>--Yes, rather would see him than not see,<br>If lifting a hand could seat him there<br>Before me in the empty chair<br>To-night, when my head aches indeed,<br>And I can neither think nor read<br>Nor make these purple fingers hold<br>The pen; this garret's freezing cold!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I've a Lady--there he wakes,<br>The laughing fiend and prince of snakes<br>Within me, at her name, to pray<br>Fate send some creature in the way<br>Of my love for her, to be down-torn,<br>Upthrust and outward-borne,<br>So I might prove myself that sea<br>Of passion which I needs must be!<br>Call my thoughts false and my fancies quaint<br>And my style infirm and its figures faint,<br>All the critics say, and more blame yet,<br>And not one angry word you get.<br>But, please you, wonder I would put<br>My cheek beneath that lady's foot<br>Rather than trample under mine<br>That laurels of the Florentine,<br>And you shall see how the devil spends<br>A fire God gave for other ends!<br>I tell you, I stride up and down<br>This garret, crowned with love's best crown,<br>And feasted with love's perfect feast,<br>To think I kill for her, at least,<br>Body and soul and peace and fame,<br>Alike youth's end and manhood's aim,<br>--So is my spirit, as flesh with sin,<br>Filled full, eaten out and in<br>With the face of her, the eyes of her,<br>The lips, the little chin, the stir<br>Of shadow round her mouth; and she<br>--I'll tell you,--calmly would decree<br>That I should roast at a slow fire,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If that would compass her desire<br>And make her one whom they invite<br>To the famous ball to-morrow night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There may be heaven; there must be hell;<br>Meantime, there is our earth here--well!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Browning">Robert Browning</a> from <i>Dramatic Romances and Lyrics</i><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116231" data-title="Time's Revenges de Robert Browning" data-description="I've a Friend, over the sea;/I like him, but he loves me./It all grew out of the books I write;/They find such favour in his sight/That he slaughters you with savage looks/Because you don't admire my books./He does himself though,--and if some vei..."></div>
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