<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=473224" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>At Verona</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">HOW steep the stairs within Kings' houses are<br> For exile-wearied feet as mine to tread,<br> And O how salt and bitter is the bread<br> Which falls from this Hound's table,--better far<br> That I had died in the red ways of war,<br> Or that the gate of Florence bare my head,<br> Than to live thus, by all things comraded<br> Which seek the essence of my soul to mar.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> 'Curse God and die: what better hope than this?<br> He hath forgotten thee in all the bliss <br> Of his gold city, and eternal day'--<br> Nay peace: behind my prison's blinded bars<br> I do possess what none can take away,<br> My love, and all the glory of the stars.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Oscar+Wilde">Oscar Wilde</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=473224" data-title="At Verona de Oscar Wilde" data-description="HOW steep the stairs within Kings' houses are For exile-wearied feet as mine to tread, And O how salt and bitter is the bread Which falls from this Hound's table,--better far That I had died in the red ways of war, Or that the gate of Florenc..."></div> </div> </div>

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