<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508466" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Munition Maker</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I am the Cannon King, behold!<br>I perish on a throne of gold.<br>With forest far and turret high,<br>Renowned and rajah-rich am I.<br>My father was, and his before,<br>With wealth we owe to war on war;<br>But let no potentate be proud . . .<br>There are no pockets in a shroud. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">By nature I am mild and kind,<br>To gentleness and ruth inclined;<br>And though the pheasants over-run<br>My woods I will not touch a gun.<br>Yet while each monster that I forge<br>Thunders destruction form its gorge.<br>Death's whisper is, I vow, more loud . . .<br>There are no pockets in a shroud. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">My time is short, my ships at sea<br>Already seem like ghosts to me;<br>My millions mock me I am poor<br>As any beggar at my door.<br>My vast dominion I resign,<br>Six feet of earth to claim is mine,<br>Brooding with shoulders bitter-bowed . . .<br>There are no pockets in a shroud. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dear God, let me purge my heart,<br>And be of heaven's hope a part!<br>Flinging my fortune's foul increase<br>To fight for pity, love and peace.<br>Oh that I could with healing fare,<br>And pledged to poverty and prayer<br>Cry high above the cringing crowd:<br>&quot;Ye fools! Be not Mammon cowed . . .<br>There are no pockets in a shroud.&quot;</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> <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=508466" data-title="Munition Maker de Robert William Service" data-description="I am the Cannon King, behold! I perish on a throne of gold. With forest far and turret high, Renowned and rajah-rich am I. My father was, and his before, With wealth we owe to war on war; But let no potentate be proud . . . There are no pockets in..."></div> </div> </div>

solid border dashed border dotted border double border groove border ridge border inset border outset border no border blue green red purple cyan gold silver black