<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341594" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To an Athlete Dying Young</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The time you won your town the race<br>We chaired you through the market-place; <br>Man and boy stood cheering by, <br>And home we brought you shoulder-high. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">To-day, the road all runners come, <br>Shoulder-high we bring you home, <br>And set you at your threshold down, <br>Townsman of a stiller town. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Smart lad, to slip betimes away<br>From fields where glory does not stay<br>And early though the laurel grows<br>It withers quicker than the rose. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Eyes the shady night has shut<br>Cannot see the record cut, <br>And silence sounds no worse than cheers<br>After earth has stopped the ears: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now you will not swell the rout<br>Of lads that wore their honours out, <br>Runners whom renown outran<br>And the name died before the man. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So set, before its echoes fade, <br>The fleet foot on the sill of shade, <br>And hold to the low lintel up<br>The still-defended challenge-cup. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And round that early-laurelled head<br>Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead, <br>And find unwithered on its curls<br>The garland briefer than a girl's.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alfred+Edward+Housman">Alfred Edward Housman</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=341594" data-title="To an Athlete Dying Young de Alfred Edward Housman" data-description="The time you won your town the race We chaired you through the market-place; Man and boy stood cheering by, And home we brought you shoulder-high. To-day, the road all runners come, Shoulder-high we bring you home, And set you at your thresh..."></div> </div> </div>

solid border dashed border dotted border double border groove border ridge border inset border outset border no border blue green red purple cyan gold silver black