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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538736" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Cane-Bottom'd Chair</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In tattered old slippers that toast at the bars, <br>And a ragged old jacket perfumed with cigars, <br>Away from the world, and its toils and its cares, <br>I've a snug little kingdom up four pair of stairs. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">To mount to this realm is a toil, to be sure, <br>But the fire there is bright and the air rather pure; <br>And the view I behold on a sunshiny day <br>Is grand through the chimney-pots over the way. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">This snug little chamber is cramm'd in all nooks <br>With worthless old knicknacks and silly old books, <br>And foolish old odds and foolish old ends, <br>Crack'd bargains from brokers, cheap keepsakes from friends. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Old armor, prints, pictures, pipes, china (all crack'd), <br>Old rickety tables, and chairs broken-backed; <br>A two-penny treasury, wondrous to see; <br>What matter? 'tis pleasant to you, friend, and me. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">No better divan need the Sultan require, <br>Than the creaking old sofa that basks by the fire; <br>And 'tis wonderful, surely, what music you get <br>From the rickety, ramshackle, wheezy spinet. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">That praying-rug came from a Turcoman's camp; <br>By Tiber once twinkled that brazen old lamp; <br>A Mameluke fierce yonder dagger has drawn: <br>'Tis a murderous knife to toast muffins upon. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Long, long through the hours, and the night, and the chimes, <br>Here we talk of old books, and old friends, and old times; <br>As we sit in a fog made of rich Latakie, <br>This chamber is pleasant to you, friend, and me. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But of all the cheap treasures that garnish my nest, <br>There is one that I love and I cherish the best: <br>For the finest of couches that's padded with hair <br>I never would change thee, my cane-bottom'd chair. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tis a bandy-legg'd, high shoulder'd, worm-eaten seat, <br>With a creaking old back, and twisted old feet; <br>But since the fair morning when Fanny sat there, <br>I bless thee and love thee, old cane-bottom'd chair. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">If chairs have but feeling, in holding such charms, <br>A thrill must have pass'd through your wither'd old arms! <br>I look'd, and I long'd, and I wish'd in despair; <br>I wished myself turn'd to a cane-bottom'd chair. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was but a moment she sat in this place, <br>She'd a scarf on her neck, and a smile on her face; <br>A smile on her face, and a rose in her hair, <br>And she sat there and bloom'd in my cane-bottom'd chair. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And so I have valued my chair ever since, <br>Like the shrine of a saint, or the throne of a prince; <br>Saint Fanny, my patroness sweet I declare, <br>The queen of my heart and my cane-bottom'd chair. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When the candles burn low, and the company's gone, <br>In the silence of night as I sit here alone -- <br>I sit here alone, but we yet are a pair -- <br>My Fanny I see in my cane-bottom'd chair. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She comes from the past and revisits my room; <br>She looks as she then did, all beauty and bloom; <br>So smiling and tender, so fresh and so fair, <br>And yonder she sits in my cane-bottom'd chair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Makepeace+Thackeray">William Makepeace Thackeray</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=538736" data-title="The Cane-Bottom'd Chair de William Makepeace Thackeray" data-description="In tattered old slippers that toast at the bars, 
And a ragged old jacket perfumed with cigars, 
Away from the world, and its toils and its cares, 
I've a snug little kingdom up four pair of stairs. 

To mount to this realm is a toil, to be sure, ..."></div>
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