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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=518837" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Remonstrance.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Opinion, let me alone: I am not thine.<br>Prim Creed, with categoric point, forbear<br>To feature me my Lord by rule and line.<br>Thou canst not measure Mistress Nature's hair,<br>Not one sweet inch: nay, if thy sight is sharp,<br>Would'st count the strings upon an angel's harp?<br>Forbear, forbear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Oh let me love my Lord more fathom deep<br>Than there is line to sound with: let me love<br>My fellow not as men that mandates keep:<br>Yea, all that's lovable, below, above,<br>That let me love by heart, by heart, because<br>(Free from the penal pressure of the laws)<br>I find it fair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'The tears I weep by day and bitter night,<br>Opinion! for thy sole salt vintage fall.<br>-- As morn by morn I rise with fresh delight,<br>Time through my casement cheerily doth call<br>`Nature is new, 'tis birthday every day,<br>Come feast with me, let no man say me nay,<br>Whate'er befall.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'So fare I forth to feast: I sit beside<br>Some brother bright: but, ere good-morrow's passed,<br>Burly Opinion wedging in hath cried<br>`Thou shalt not sit by us, to break thy fast,<br>Save to our Rubric thou subscribe and swear --<br>`Religion hath blue eyes and yellow hair:'<br>She's Saxon, all.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Then, hard a-hungered for my brother's grace<br>Till well-nigh fain to swear his folly's true,<br>In sad dissent I turn my longing face<br>To him that sits on the left: `Brother, -- with you?'<br>-- `Nay, not with me, save thou subscribe and swear<br>`Religion hath black eyes and raven hair:'<br>Nought else is true.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Debarred of banquets that my heart could make<br>With every man on every day of life,<br>I homeward turn, my fires of pain to slake<br>In deep endearments of a worshipped wife.<br>`I love thee well, dear Love,' quoth she, `and yet<br>Would that thy creed with mine completely met,<br>As one, not two.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Assassin! Thief! Opinion, 'tis thy work.<br>By Church, by throne, by hearth, by every good<br>That's in the Town of Time, I see thee lurk,<br>And e'er some shadow stays where thou hast stood.<br>Thou hand'st sweet Socrates his hemlock sour;<br>Thou sav'st Barabbas in that hideous hour,<br>And stabb'st the good</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Deliverer Christ; thou rack'st the souls of men;<br>Thou tossest girls to lions and boys to flames;<br>Thou hew'st Crusader down by Saracen;<br>Thou buildest closets full of secret shames;<br>Indifferent cruel, thou dost blow the blaze<br>Round Ridley or Servetus; all thy days<br>Smell scorched; I would</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'-- Thou base-born Accident of time and place --<br>Bigot Pretender unto Judgment's throne --<br>Bastard, that claimest with a cunning face<br>Those rights the true, true Son of Man doth own<br>By Love's authority -- thou Rebel cold<br>At head of civil wars and quarrels old --<br>Thou Knife on a throne --</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'I would thou left'st me free, to live with love,<br>And faith, that through the love of love doth find<br>My Lord's dear presence in the stars above,<br>The clods below, the flesh without, the mind<br>Within, the bread, the tear, the smile.<br>Opinion, damned Intriguer, gray with guile,<br>Let me alone.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sidney+Lanier">Sidney Lanier</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=518837" data-title="Remonstrance. de Sidney Lanier" data-description="'Opinion, let me alone: I am not thine.
Prim Creed, with categoric point, forbear
To feature me my Lord by rule and line.
Thou canst not measure Mistress Nature's hair,
Not one sweet inch: nay, if thy sight is sharp,
Would'st count the strings upo..."></div>
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