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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=390943" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Lydia Dick</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When I was a boy at college,<br>Filling up with classic knowledge,<br>Frequently I wondered why<br>Old Professor Demas Bently<br>Used to praise so eloquently<br>'Opera Horatii.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Toiling on a season longer<br>Till my reasoning power got stronger,<br>As my observation grew,<br>I became convinced that mellow,<br>Massic-loving poet fellow<br>Horace knew a thing or two</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes, we sophomores figured duly<br>That, if we appraised him truly,<br>Horace must have been a brick;<br>And no wonder that with ranting<br>Rhymes he went a-gallivanting<br>Round with sprightly Lydia Dick!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For that pink of female gender<br>Tall and shapely was, and slender,<br>Plump of neck and bust and arms;<br>While the raiment that invested<br>Her so jealously suggested<br>Certain more potential charms.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Those dark eyes of her that fired him--<br>Those sweet accents that inspired him,<br>And her crown of glorious hair--<br>These things baffle my description;<br>I should have a fit conniption<br>If I tried--so I forbear!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">May be Lydia had her betters;<br>Anyway, this man of letters<br>Took that charmer as his pick;<br>Glad--yes, glad I am to know it!<br>I, a fin de siecle poet,<br>Sympathize with Lydia Dick!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Often in my arbor shady<br>I fall thinking of that lady<br>And the pranks she used to play;<br>And I'm cheered--for all we sages<br>Joy when from those distant ages<br>Lydia dances down our way.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Otherwise some folks might wonder<br>With good reason why in thunder<br>Learned professors, dry and prim,<br>Find such solace in the giddy<br>Pranks that Horace played with Liddy<br>Or that Liddy played on him.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Still this world of ours rejoices<br>In those ancient singing voices,<br>And our hearts beat high and quick,<br>To the cadence of old Tiber<br>Murmuring praise of roistering Liber<br>And of charming Lydia Dick.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Still, Digentia, downward flowing,<br>Prattleth to the roses blowing<br>By the dark, deserted grot;<br>Still, Soracte, looming lonely,<br>Watcheth for the coming only<br>Of a ghost that cometh not.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Eugene+Field">Eugene Field</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=390943" data-title="Lydia Dick de Eugene Field" data-description="When I was a boy at college,
Filling up with classic knowledge,
Frequently I wondered why
Old Professor Demas Bently
Used to praise so eloquently
'Opera Horatii.'

Toiling on a season longer
Till my reasoning power got stronger,
As my observation ..."></div>
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