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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=415702" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Day</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Linger, oh Sun, for a little, nor close yet this day of a million! <br> Is there not glory enough in the rose-curtained halls of the West? <br>Hast thou no joy in the passion-hued folds of thy kingly pavilion? <br> Why shouldst thou only pass through it? Oh rest thee a little while, rest! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why should the Night come and take it, the wan Night that cannot enjoy it, <br> Bringing pale argent for golden, and changing vermilion to grey? <br>Why should the Night come and shadow it, entering but to destroy it? <br> Rest 'mid thy ruby-trailed splendours! Oh stay thee a little while, stay! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Rest thee at least a brief hour in it! 'Tis a right royal pavilion. <br> Lo, there are thrones for high dalliance all gloriously canopied o'er! <br>Lo, there are hangings of purple, and hangings of blue and vermilion, <br> And there are fleeces of gold for thy feet on the diapered floor! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Linger, a little while linger. To-morrow my heart may not sing to thee: <br> This shall be Yesterday, numbered with memories, folded away. <br>Now should my flesh-fettered soul be set free! I would soar to thee, <br> cling to thee, <br> And be thy rere-ward Aurora, pursuing the skirts of To-day!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+Brunton+Stephens">James Brunton Stephens</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=415702" data-title="Day de James Brunton Stephens" data-description="Linger, oh Sun, for a little, nor close yet this day of a million! Is there not glory enough in the rose-curtained halls of the West? Hast thou no joy in the passion-hued folds of thy kingly pavilion? Why sho..."></div> </div> </div>
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