<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=342915" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Surprised</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O son of mine age, these eyes lose their fire:<br>Be eyes, I pray, to thy dying sire.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O father, fear not, for mine eyes are bright<br>I read through a millstone at dead of night.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'My son, O tell me, who are those men,<br>Rushing like pigs to the feeding-pen?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Welcomers they of a statesman grand.<br>They'll shake, and then they will pocket; his hand.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Sagacious youth, with the wondrous eye,<br>They seem to throw up their headgear. Why?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Because they've thrown up their hands until, O,<br>They're so tired!-and dinners they've none to throw.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'My son, my son, though dull are mine ears,<br>I hear a great sound like the people's cheers.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'He's thanking them, father, with tears in his eyes,<br>For giving him lately that fine surprise.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'My memory fails as I near mine end;<br>How _did_ they astonish their grateful friend?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'By letting him buy, like apples or oats,<br>With that which has made him so good, the votes<br>Which make him so wise and grand and great.<br>Now, father, please die, for 'tis growing late.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ambrose+Bierce">Ambrose Bierce</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=342915" data-title="Surprised de Ambrose Bierce" data-description="'O son of mine age, these eyes lose their fire: Be eyes, I pray, to thy dying sire.' 'O father, fear not, for mine eyes are bright I read through a millstone at dead of night.' 'My son, O tell me, who are those men, Rushing like pigs to the feed..."></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