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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=401978" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Hunting Horns</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Our story’s noble as its tragic<br>like the grimace of a tyrant<br>no drama’s chance or magic<br>no detail that’s indifferent<br>makes our great love pathetic<br>And Thomas de Quincey drinking <br>Opiate poison sweet and chaste<br>Of his poor Anne went dreaming<br>We pass we pass since all must pass<br>Often I’ll be returning<br>Memories are hunting horns alas<br>whose note along the wind is dying</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Guillaume+Apollinaire">Guillaume Apollinaire</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=401978" data-title="Hunting Horns de Guillaume Apollinaire" data-description="Our story’s noble as its tragic
like the grimace of a tyrant
no drama’s chance or magic
no detail that’s indifferent
makes our great love pathetic
And Thomas de Quincey drinking 
Opiate poison sweet and chaste
Of his poor Anne went dreaming
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