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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508194" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Apollo Belvedere</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A-sitttin' on a cracker box an' spittin' in the stove,<br>I took a sudden notion that I'd kindo' like to rove;<br>An' so I bought a ticket, jest as easy as could be,<br>From Pumpkinville in Idaho to Rome in Italy;<br>An' found myself in seven days of mostly atmosphere<br>A-starin' at a statoo called Appoller Belvydeer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now I'm a rum-soaked sinner, an' religion ain't my plan,<br>Yet, I was flabbergasted by that gol-darned Vattyican;<br>An' when I seed Saint Peter's dome, all I could do was swear,<br>The which I reckon after all may be a form o' prayer;<br>Abut as I sought amid them sights bewildered to steer,<br>The king-pin was the one they called Appoller Belvydeer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Say, I ain't got no culture an' I don't know any art,<br>But that there statoo got me, standin' in its room apart,<br>In an alcove draped wi' velvet, lookin' everlastin' bright,<br>Like the vision o' a poet, full o' beauty, grace an' light;<br>An' though I know them kind o' words sound sissy in the ear,<br>It's jest how I was struck by that Appoller Belvydeer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I've gazed at them depictions in the glossy magazines,<br>Uv modern Art an' darned if I can make out what it means:<br>Will any jerk to-day outstand a thousand years of test?<br>Why, them old Pagans make us look like pikers at the best.<br>An' maybe, too, their minds was jest as luminous and clear<br>As that immortal statoo o' Appoller Belvydeer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An' all yer march o' progress an' machinery as' such,<br>I wonder if, when all is said, they add up to so much?<br>An' were not these old fellers in their sweet an' simple way<br>Serener souled an' happier than we poor mugs to-day?<br>They have us licked, I thought, an' stood wi' mingled gloom an' cheer<br>Before that starry statoo o' Appoller Belvydeer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So I'll go back to Pumpkinville an' to my humble home,<br>An' dream o' all the sights I saw in everlastin' Rome;<br>But I will never speak a word o' that enchanted land<br>That taks you bang into the Past - folks wouldn't understand;<br>An' midmost in my memories I'll cherish close an' dear<br>That bit o' frozen music, that Appoller Belvydeer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+William+Service">Robert William Service</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=508194" data-title="Apollo Belvedere de Robert William Service" data-description="A-sitttin' on a cracker box an' spittin' in the stove,
I took a sudden notion that I'd kindo' like to rove;
An' so I bought a ticket, jest as easy as could be,
From Pumpkinville in Idaho to Rome in Italy;
An' found myself in seven days of mostly a..."></div>
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