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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=521223" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Winged Man</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The moon, a sweeping scimitar, dipped in the stormy straits, <br>The dawn, a crimson cataract, burst through the eastern gates, <br>The cliffs were robed in scarlet, the sands were cinnabar, <br>Where first two men spread wings for flight and dared the hawk afar. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There stands the cunning workman, the crafty past all praise, <br>The man who chained the Minotaur, the man who built the Maze. <br>His young son is beside him and the boy's face is a light, <br>A light of dawn and wonder and of valor infinite. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Their great vans beat the cloven air, like eagles they mount up, <br>Motes in the wine of morning, specks in a crystal cup, <br>And lest his wings should melt apace old Daedalus flies low, <br>But Icarus beats up, beats up, he goes where lightnings go. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He cares no more for warnings, he rushes through the sky, <br>Braving the crags of ether, daring the gods on high, <br>Black 'gainst the crimson sunset, golden o'er cloudy snows, <br>With all Adventure in his heart the first winged man arose. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dropping gold, dropping gold, where the mists of morning rolled, <br>On he kept his way undaunted, though his breaths were stabs of cold, <br>Through the mystery of dawning that no mortal may behold. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now he shouts, now he sings in the rapture of his wings, <br>And his great heart burns intenser with the strength of his desire, <br>As he circles like a swallow, wheeling, flaming, gyre on gyre. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Gazing straight at the sun, half his pilgrimage is done, <br>And he staggers for a moment, hurries on, reels backward, swerves <br>In a rain of scattered feathers as he falls in broken curves. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Icarus, Icarus, though the end is piteous, <br>Yet forever, yea, forever we shall see thee rising thus, <br>See the first supernal glory, not the ruin hideous. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">You were Man, you who ran farther than our eyes can scan, <br>Man absurd, gigantic, eager for impossible Romance, <br>Overthrowing all Hell's legions with one warped and broken lance. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">On the highest steeps of Space he will have his dwelling-place, <br>In those far, terrific regions where the cold comes down like Death <br>Gleams the red glint of his pinions, smokes the vapor of his breath. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Floating downward, very clear, still the echoes reach the ear <br>Of a little tune he whistles and a little song he sings, <br>Mounting, mounting still, triumphant, on his torn and broken wings!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Stephen+Vincent+Benet">Stephen Vincent Benet</a><div class=q>
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The dawn, a crimson cataract, burst through the eastern gates, 
The cliffs were robed in scarlet, the sands were cinnabar, 
Where first two men spread wings for flight and dared the haw..."></div>
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