<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529406" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ode On The Spring</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lo! where the rosy-bosom'd Hours,<br> Fair Venus' train appear,<br> Disclose the long-expecting flowers,<br> And wake the purple year!<br> The Attic warbler pours her throat,<br> Responsive to the cuckoo's note,<br> The untaught harmony of spring:<br> While whisp'ring pleasure as they fly,<br> Cool zephyrs thro' the clear blue sky<br> Their gather'd fragrance fling.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch<br> A broader, browner shade;<br> Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech<br> O'er-canopies the glade,<br> Beside some water's rushy brink<br> With me the Muse shall sit, and think<br> (At ease reclin'd in rustic state)<br> How vain the ardour of the crowd,<br> How low, how little are the proud,<br> How indigent the great!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Still is the toiling hand of Care:<br> The panting herds repose:<br> Yet hark, how thro' the peopled air<br> The busy murmur glows!<br> The insect youth are on the wing,<br> Eager to taste the honied spring,<br> And float amid the liquid noon:<br> Some lightly o'er the current skim,<br> Some show their gaily-gilded trim<br> Quick-glancing to the sun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> To Contemplation's sober eye<br> Such is the race of man:<br> And they that creep, and they that fly,<br> Shall end where they began.<br> Alike the busy and the gay<br> But flutter thro' life's little day,<br> In fortune's varying colours drest:<br> Brush'd by the hand of rough Mischance,<br> Or chill'd by age, their airy dance<br> They leave, in dust to rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Methinks I hear in accents low<br> The sportive kind reply:<br> Poor moralist! and what art thou?<br> A solitary fly!<br> Thy joys no glitt'ring female meets,<br> No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets,<br> No painted plumage to display:<br> On hasty wings thy youth is flown;<br> Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone--<br> We frolic, while 'tis May.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Thomas+Gray">Thomas Gray</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=529406" data-title="Ode On The Spring de Thomas Gray" data-description="Lo! where the rosy-bosom'd Hours, Fair Venus' train appear, Disclose the long-expecting flowers, And wake the purple year! The Attic warbler pours her throat, Responsive to the cuckoo's note, The untaught harmony of spring: While whisp'ring..."></div> </div> </div>

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