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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=472335" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Poem For The Meeting Of The American Medical Association At New York, May 5, 1853</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I HOLD a letter in my hand,-<br>A flattering letter, more's the pity,-<br>By some contriving junto planned,<br>And signed per order of Committee.<br>It touches every tenderest spot,-<br>My patriotic predilections,<br>My well-known -something- don't ask what,-<br>My poor old songs, my kind affections.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They make a feast on Thursday next,<br>And hope to make the feasters merry;<br>They own they're something more perplexed<br>For poets than for port and sherry.<br>They want the men of (word torn out);<br>Our friends will come with anxious faces,<br>(To see our blankets off, no doubt,<br>And trot us out and show our paces.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They hint that papers by the score<br>Are rather musty kind of rations,<br>They don't exactly mean a bore,<br>But only trying to the patience;<br>That such as you know who I mean<br>Distinguished for their what d'ye call 'em<br>Should bring the dews of Hippocrene<br>To sprinkle on the faces solemn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The same old story: that's the chaff<br>To catch the birds that sing the ditties;<br>Upon my soul, it makes me laugh<br>To read these letters from Committees!<br>They're all so loving and so fair,<br>All for your sake such kind compunction;<br>'T would save your carriage half its wear<br>To touch its wheels with such an unction!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why, who am I, to lift me here<br>And beg such learned folk to listen,<br>To ask a smile, or coax a tear<br>Beneath these stoic lids to glisten?<br>As well might some arterial thread<br>Ask the whole frame to feel it gushing,<br>While throbbing fierce from heel to head<br>As well some hair-like nerve might strain<br>To set its special streamlet going,<br>While through the myriad-channelled brain<br>The burning flood of thought was flowing;<br>Or trembling fibre strive to keep<br>The springing haunches gathered shorter,<br>While the scourged racer, leap on leap,<br>Was stretching through the last hot quarter!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah me! you take the bud that came<br>Self-sown in your poor garden's borders,<br>And hand it to the stately dame<br>That florists breed for, all she orders.<br>She thanks you, it was kindly meant<br>(A pale affair, not worth the keeping,)<br>Good morning; and your bud is sent<br>To join the tea-leaves used for sweeping.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not always so, kind hearts and true,<br>For such I know are round me beating;<br>Is not the bud I offer you,<br>Fresh gathered for the hour of meeting,<br>Pale though its outer leaves may be,<br>Rose-red in all its inner petals?<br>Where the warm life we cannot see<br>The life of love that gave it settles.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We meet from regions far away,<br>Like rills from distant mountains streaming;<br>The sun is on Francisco's bay,<br>O'er Chesapeake the lighthouse gleaming;<br>While summer girds the still bayou<br>In chains of bloom, her bridal token,<br>Monadnock sees the sky grow blue,<br>His crystal bracelet yet unbroken.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet Nature bears the selfsame heart<br>Beneath her russet-mantled bosom<br>As where, with burning lips apart,<br>She breathes and white magnolias blossom;<br>The selfsame founts her chalice fill<br>With showery sunlight running over,<br>On fiery plain and frozen hill,<br>On myrtle-beds and fields of clover.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I give you Home! its crossing lines<br>United in one golden suture,<br>And showing every day that shines<br>The present growing to the future,<br>A flag that bears a hundred stars<br>In one bright ring, with love for centre,<br>Fenced round with white and crimson bars<br>No prowling treason dares to enter!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O brothers, home may be a word<br>To make affection's living treasure,<br>The wave an angel might have stirred,<br>A stagnant pool of selfish pleasure;<br>HOME! It is where the day-star springs<br>And where the evening sun reposes,<br>Where'er the eagle spreads his wings,<br>From northern pines to southern roses!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Oliver+Wendell+Holmes">Oliver Wendell Holmes</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=472335" data-title="A Poem For The Meeting Of The American Medical Association At New York, May 5, 1853 de Oliver Wendell Holmes" data-description="I HOLD a letter in my hand,-
A flattering letter, more's the pity,-
By some contriving junto planned,
And signed per order of Committee.
It touches every tenderest spot,-
My patriotic predilections,
My well-known -something- don't ask what,-
My po..."></div>
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