<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=472369" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>An Impromptu</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not premeditated</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>THE clock has struck noon; ere it thrice tell the hours<br>We shall meet round the table that blushes with flowers,<br>And I shall blush deeper with shame-driven blood<br>That I came to the banquet and brought not a bud.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who cares that his verse is a beggar in art<br>If you see through its rags the full throb of his heart?<br>Who asks if his comrade is battered and tanned<br>When he feels his warm soul in the clasp of his hand?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No! be it an epic, or be it a line,<br>The Boys will all love it because it is mine;<br>I sung their last song on the morn of the day<br>That tore from their lives the last blossom of May.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is not the sunset that glows in the wine,<br>But the smile that beams over it, makes it divine;<br>I scatter these drops, and behold, as they fall,<br>The day-star of memory shines through them all!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And these are the last; they are drops that I stole<br>From a wine-press that crushes the life from the soul,<br>But they ran through my heart and they sprang to my brain<br>Till our twentieth sweet summer was smiling again!</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> <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=472369" data-title="An Impromptu de Oliver Wendell Holmes" data-description="Not premeditated THE clock has struck noon; ere it thrice tell the hours We shall meet round the table that blushes with flowers, And I shall blush deeper with shame-driven blood That I came to the banquet and brought not a bud. Who cares that ..."></div> </div> </div>

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