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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357189" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Droop'st thou and fail'st? but these have never tired</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Droop'st thou and fail'st? but these have never tired; <br>winds of the region, free, they shine and sing, <br>unurged, unguerdon'd: hast thou then desired <br>to be with them and trail'st a useless wing? <br>Self-pity hath thee in her clinging damp, <br>and makes a siren-music of thy woes <br>to lure thy feet into that reptile-swamp <br>where rancour's muddy stream, festering, throes. <br>Cunning is her condolence with the snarl <br>of canker'd memory or the soft tear <br>for vanisht sweetness: come, an honest parle, <br>air for thy ailment! make these wrongs appear. <br>Ay, this hath spat at thee, and that hath flung <br>his native mud, and that with bilious guile <br>most plausible — what! hast thou loved and sung <br>as was in thee, and need'st do else than smile? <br>(Heed not that subtle demon that would prompt <br>to measure thee by them; so humbled yet <br>thou art not, nor so beggar'd thine accompt: <br>what thou art, that thou hast, and know'st thy debt.) <br>And in thy house of love the venom'd dart <br>was thrust within thy side — Even so! must then <br>the gather'd ripeness of thy mind and heart <br>be turn'd to flies? that is no way for men. <br>Who said, and rid himself of usual awe, <br>I prize not man, save as his metal rings <br>of god or hero? Hast thou made a law, <br>live by thy law: 'tis carrion hath no wings.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Christopher+John+Brennan">Christopher John Brennan</a><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=357189" data-title="Droop'st thou and fail'st? but these have never tired de Christopher John Brennan" data-description="Droop'st thou and fail'st? but these have never tired; 
winds of the region, free, they shine and sing, 
unurged, unguerdon'd: hast thou then desired 
to be with them and trail'st a useless wing? 
Self-pity hath thee in her clinging damp, 
and mak..."></div>
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