<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419568" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>An American Addresses Philomela</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Procne, Philomela, and Itylus,<br>Your names are liquid, your improbable tale<br>Is recited in the classic numbers of the nightingale.<br>Ah, but our numbers are not felicitous,<br>It goes not liquidly for us!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Perched on a Roman ilex and duly apostrophised,<br>The nightingale descanted unto Ovid;<br>She has even appeared to the Teutons, the swilled and gravid;<br>At Fontainebleau it may be the bird was gallicised;<br>Never was she baptised.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To England came Philomela with her strain,<br>Fleeing the hawk her husband ; querulous ghost,<br>She wanders when he sits heavy on his roost,<br>Utters herself in the original again,<br>The untranslatable refrain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not to these shores she came, this other Thrace,<br>Environ barbarous to the royal Attic;<br>How could her delicate dirge run democratic,<br>Delivered in a cloudless boundless public place<br>To a hypermuscular race?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I pernoctated with the Oxford students once,<br>And in the quadrangles, in the cloisters, on the Cher,<br>Precociously knocked at antique doors ajar,<br>Fatuously touched the hems of the Hierophants,<br>Sick of my dissonance;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I went out to Bagley Wood, I climbed the hill,<br>Even the moon had slanted off in a twinkling,<br>I heard the sepulchral owl and a few bells tinkling,<br>There was no more villainous day to unfulfill,<br>The diuturnity was still;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Up from the darkest wood where Philomela sat,<br>Her fairy numbers issued; what then ailed me?<br>My ears are called capacious, but they failed me,<br>Her classics registered a little flat!<br>I rose, and venomously spat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Philomela, Philomela, lover of song,<br>I have despaired of thee and am unworthy,<br>My scene is prose, this people and I are earthy;<br>Unto more beautiful, persistently more young<br>Thy fabulous provinces belong.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Crowe+Ransom">John Crowe Ransom</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=419568" data-title="An American Addresses Philomela de John Crowe Ransom" data-description="Procne, Philomela, and Itylus, Your names are liquid, your improbable tale Is recited in the classic numbers of the nightingale. Ah, but our numbers are not felicitous, It goes not liquidly for us! Perched on a Roman ilex and duly apostrophised, ..."></div> </div> </div>

solid border dashed border dotted border double border groove border ridge border inset border outset border no border blue green red purple cyan gold silver black