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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=397178" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Muse</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">She doth tell me where to borrow<br>Comfort in the midst of sorrow:<br>Makes the desolatest place<br>To her presence be a grace;<br>And the blackest discontents<br>Be her fairest ornaments,<br>In my former days of bliss,<br>Her divine skill taught me this,<br>That from everything I saw,<br>I could some invention draw,<br>And raise pleasure to her height,<br>Through the meanest object's sight;<br>By the murmur of a spring,<br>Or the least bough's rustleing. <br>By a daisy, whose leaves spread,<br>Shut when Titan goes to bed;<br>Or a shady bush or tree,<br>She could more infuse in me,<br>Than all Nature's beauties can<br>In some other wiser man.<br>By her help I also now<br>Make this churlish place allow<br>Some things that may sweeten gladness,<br>In the very gall of sadness.<br>The dull loneness, the black shade,<br>That these hanging vaults have made;<br>The strange music of the waves,<br>Beating on these hollow caves;<br>This black den which rocks emboss,<br>Overgrown with eldest moss:<br>The rude portals that give light<br>More to terror than delight;<br>This my chamber of neglect,<br>Walled about with disrespect.<br>From all these, and this dull air,<br>A fit object for despair,<br>She hath taught me by her might<br>To draw comfort and delight.<br>Therefore, thou best earthly bliss,<br>I will cherish thee for this.<br>Poesy, thou sweet'st content<br>That e'er heaven to mortals lent:<br>Though they as a trifle leave thee,<br>Whose dull thoughts cannot conceive thee,<br>Though thou be to them a scorn,<br>That to nought but earth are born,<br>Let my life no longer be<br>Than I am in love with thee,<br>Though our wise ones call thee madness,<br>Let me never taste of gladness,<br>If I love not thy madd'st fits<br>Above all their greatest wits.<br>And though some, too seeming holy,<br>Do account thy raptures folly,<br>Thou dost teach me to contemn<br>What makes knaves and fools of them.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=George+Wither">George Wither</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=397178" data-title="The Muse de George Wither" data-description="She doth tell me where to borrow
Comfort in the midst of sorrow:
Makes the desolatest place
To her presence be a grace;
And the blackest discontents
Be her fairest ornaments,
In my former days of bliss,
Her divine skill taught me this,
That from e..."></div>
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