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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=426422" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Progress of Poetry</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Farmer's Goose, who in the Stubble, <br>Has fed without Restraint, or Trouble; <br>Grown fat with Corn and Sitting still, <br>Can scarce get o'er the Barn-Door Sill: <br>And hardly waddles forth, to cool <br>Her Belly in the neighb'ring Pool: <br>Nor loudly cackles at the Door; <br>For Cackling shews the Goose is poor.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But when she must be turn'd to graze, <br>And round the barren Common strays, <br>Hard Exercise, and harder Fare <br>Soon make my Dame grow lank and spare: <br>Her Body light, she tries her Wings, <br>And scorns the Ground, and upward springs, <br>While all the Parish, as she flies, <br>Hear Sounds harmonious from the Skies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Such is the Poet, fresh in Pay, <br>(The third Night's Profits of his Play;) <br>His Morning-Draughts 'till Noon can swill, <br>Among his Brethren of the Quill: <br>With good Roast Beef his Belly full, <br>Grown lazy, foggy, fat, and dull: <br>Deep sunk in Plenty, and Delight, <br>What Poet e'er could take his Flight? <br>Or stuff'd with Phlegm up to the Throat, <br>What Poet e'er could sing a Note? <br>Nor Pegasus could bear the Load, <br>Along the high celestial Road; <br>The Steed, oppress'd, would break his Girth, <br>To raise the Lumber from the Earth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But, view him in another Scene, <br>When all his Drink is Hippocrene, <br>His Money spent, his Patrons fail, <br>His Credit out for Cheese and Ale; <br>His Two-Year's Coat so smooth and bare, <br>Through ev'ry Thread it lets in Air; <br>With hungry Meals his Body pin'd, <br>His Guts and Belly full of Wind; <br>And, like a Jockey for a Race, <br>His Flesh brought down to Flying-Case: <br>Now his exalted Spirit loaths <br>Incumbrances of Food and Cloaths; <br>And up he rises like a Vapour, <br>Supported high on Wings of Paper; <br>He singing flies, and flying sings, <br>While from below all Grub-street rings.</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=426422" data-title="The Progress of Poetry de Jonathan Swift" data-description="The Farmer's Goose, who in the Stubble, 
Has fed without Restraint, or Trouble; 
Grown fat with Corn and Sitting still, 
Can scarce get o'er the Barn-Door Sill: 
And hardly waddles forth, to cool 
Her Belly in the neighb'ring Pool: 
Nor loudly cac..."></div>
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