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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420925" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Draught Of Sunshine</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hence Burgundy, Claret, and Port, <br>Away with old Hock and madeira, <br>Too earthly ye are for my sport; <br>There's a beverage brighter and clearer. <br>Instead of a piriful rummer, <br>My wine overbrims a whole summer; <br>My bowl is the sky, <br>And I drink at my eye, <br>Till I feel in the brain <br>A Delphian pain - <br>Then follow, my Caius! then follow: <br>On the green of the hill <br>We will drink our fill <br>Of golden sunshine, <br>Till our brains intertwine <br>With the glory and grace of Apollo! <br>God of the Meridian, <br>And of the East and West, <br>To thee my soul is flown, <br>And my body is earthward press'd. - <br>It is an awful mission, <br>A terrible division; <br>And leaves a gulph austere <br>To be fill'd with worldly fear. <br>Aye, when the soul is fled <br>To high above our head, <br>Affrighted do we gaze <br>After its airy maze, <br>As doth a mother wild, <br>When her young infant child <br>Is in an eagle's claws - <br>And is not this the cause <br>Of madness? - God of Song, <br>Thou bearest me along <br>Through sights I scarce can bear: <br>O let me, let me share <br>With the hot lyre and thee, <br>The staid Philosophy. <br>Temper my lonely hours, <br>And let me see thy bowers <br>More unalarm'd!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Keats">John Keats</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=420925" data-title="A Draught Of Sunshine de John Keats" data-description="Hence Burgundy, Claret, and Port, Away with old Hock and madeira, Too earthly ye are for my sport; There's a beverage brighter and clearer. Instead of a piriful rummer, My wine overbrims a whole summer; My bowl is the sky, And I drink at my..."></div> </div> </div>
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