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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=415748" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Southern Cross</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">(A Frustration)<br>Four stars on Night's brow, or Night's bosom,<br>Whichever the reader prefers;<br>Or Night without either may do some,<br>Each one to his taste or to hers.<br>Four stars—to continue inditing,<br>So long as I feel in the vein—<br>Hullo! what the deuce is that biting?<br>Mosquitos again!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh glories not gilded but golden,<br>Oh daughters of Night unexcelled,<br>By the sons of the north unbeholden,<br>By our sons (if we have them) beheld;<br>Oh jewels the midnight enriching,<br>Oh four which are double of twain!<br>Oh mystical — bother the itching!<br>Mosquitos again!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You alone I can anchor my eye on,<br>Of you and you only I'll write:<br>And I now look awry on Orion,<br>That once was my chiefest delight.<br>Ye exalt me high over the petty<br>Conditions of pleasure and pain—<br>Oh Heaven! here are these maladetti<br>Mosquitos again!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The poet should ever be placid.<br>Oh vex not his soul or his skin!<br>Shall I scare them with sulphurous acid?<br>It is done, and afresh I begin.<br>Lucid orbs!—that last sting very sore is;<br>I am fain to leave off, I am fain;<br>It has given me uncommon dolores—<br>Simpliciter, pain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not quite what the shape of a cross is—<br>A little lop-sided, I own—<br>Confound your infernal proboscis,<br>Inserted well nigh to the bone!<br>Queen-lights of the heights of high heaven,<br>Ensconced in the crystal inane—<br>Oh me! here are seventy times seven<br> <br>Mosquitos again!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh horns of a mighty trapezium!<br>Quadrilateral area, hail!<br>Oh bright as the light of magnesium!—<br>Oh hang them all, female and male!<br>At the end of an hour of their stinging,<br>What shall rest of me then, what remain?<br>I shall die as the swan dieth, singing,<br>Mosquitos again!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shock keen as the stroke of the levin!<br>They sting, and I change in a flash<br>From the peace and the poppies of heaven<br>To the flame and the fuel of—dash!<br>O Cross of the South ! I forgot you,<br>These demons have addled my brain.<br>Once more I look upward. . . . Od rot you!<br>You're at it again</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There ! stick in your pitiless brad-awl,<br>And do your malevolent worst!<br>Dine on me, and when you have had all,<br>Let others go in for a burst!<br>O silent and pure constellation,<br>Can you pardon my fretful refrain?<br>Forgive, oh forgive my vexation—<br>They're at it again!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh imps that provoke to mad laughter,<br>Winged fiends that are fed from my brow,<br>Bite hard! let your neighbours come after,<br>And sting where you stung me just now!<br>Red brands on it smitten and bitten,<br>Round blotches I rub at in vain!<br>Oh Crux! Whatsoever I've written,<br>I've written in pain!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ye chrysolite crystalline creatures,<br>Wan watchers the fairest afield,<br>Stars—and garters, are these my own features<br>In the merciless mirror revealed!<br>They are mine, even mine, and none other,<br>And my hands how they slacken and strain!<br>Oh my sister, my spouse, and my mother!<br>I'm going insane!</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>
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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=415748" data-title="The Southern Cross de James Brunton Stephens" data-description="(A Frustration)
Four stars on Night's brow, or Night's bosom,
Whichever the reader prefers;
Or Night without either may do some,
Each one to his taste or to hers.
Four stars—to continue inditing,
So long as I feel in the vein—
Hullo! what the ..."></div>
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