<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420970" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Hymn To Apollo</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">GOD of the golden bow,<br> And of the golden lyre,<br>And of the golden hair,<br> And of the golden fire,<br> Charioteer<br> Of the patient year,<br> Where---where slept thine ire,<br>When like a blank idiot I put on thy wreath,<br> Thy laurel, thy glory,<br> The light of thy story,<br>Or was I a worm---too low crawling for death?<br> O Delphic Apollo!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Thunderer grasp'd and grasp'd,<br> The Thunderer frown'd and frown'd;<br>The eagle's feathery mane<br> For wrath became stiffen'd---the sound<br> Of breeding thunder<br> Went drowsily under,<br> Muttering to be unbound.<br>O why didst thou pity, and beg for a worm?<br> Why touch thy soft lute<br> Till the thunder was mute,<br>Why was I not crush'd---such a pitiful germ?<br> O Delphic Apollo!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Pleiades were up,<br> Watching the silent air;<br>The seeds and roots in Earth<br> Were swelling for summer fare;<br> The Ocean, its neighbour,<br> Was at his old labour,<br> When, who---who did dare<br>To tie for a moment, thy plant round his brow,<br> And grin and look proudly,<br> And blaspheme so loudly,<br>And live for that honour, to stoop to thee now?<br> O Delphic Apollo!</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=420970" data-title="Hymn To Apollo de John Keats" data-description="GOD of the golden bow, And of the golden lyre, And of the golden hair, And of the golden fire, Charioteer Of the patient year, Where---where slept thine ire, When like a blank idiot I put on thy wreath, Thy laurel, thy glory, The light of t..."></div> </div> </div>

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