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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=426374" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>On A Horn</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The joy of man, the pride of brutes,<br>Domestic subject for disputes,<br>Of plenty thou the emblem fair,<br>Adorn'd by nymphs with all their care!<br>I saw thee raised to high renown,<br>Supporting half the British crown;<br>And often have I seen thee grace<br>The chaste Diana's infant face;<br>And whensoe'er you please to shine,<br>Less useful is her light than thine:<br>Thy numerous fingers know their way,<br>And oft in Celia's tresses play.<br>To place thee in another view,<br>I'll show the world strange things and true;<br>What lords and dames of high degree<br>May justly claim their birth from thee!<br>The soul of man with spleen you vex;<br>Of spleen you cure the female sex.<br>Thee for a gift the courtier sends<br>With pleasure to his special friends:<br>He gives, and with a generous pride,<br>Contrives all means the gift to hide:<br>Nor oft can the receiver know,<br>Whether he has the gift or no.<br>On airy wings you take your flight,<br>And fly unseen both day and night;<br>Conceal your form with various tricks;<br>And few know how or where you fix:<br>Yet some, who ne'er bestow'd thee, boast<br>That they to others give thee most.<br>Meantime, the wise a question start,<br>If thou a real being art;<br>Or but a creature of the brain,<br>That gives imaginary pain?<br>But the sly giver better knows thee;<br>Who feels true joys when he bestows thee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Jonathan+Swift">Jonathan Swift</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=426374" data-title="On A Horn de Jonathan Swift" data-description="The joy of man, the pride of brutes,
Domestic subject for disputes,
Of plenty thou the emblem fair,
Adorn'd by nymphs with all their care!
I saw thee raised to high renown,
Supporting half the British crown;
And often have I seen thee grace
The ch..."></div>
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