<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=576513" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Good Inn</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">What care if the day<br>Be turned to gray,<br>What care if the night come soon!<br>We may choose the pace<br>Who bow for grace<br>At the Inn of the Silver Moon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, hurrying Sirs,<br>Drive deep your spurs,<br>For it's far to the steepled town -<br>Where the wallet's weight<br>Shall fix your state<br>And buy for ye smile or frown.<br>Through our tiles of green<br>Do the stars between<br>Laugh down from the skies of June,<br>And there's naught to pay<br>For a couch of hay<br>At the Inn of the Silver Moon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You laboring lout,<br>Pull out, pull out,<br>With a hand to the creaking tire,<br>For it's many a mile<br>By path and stile<br>To the old wife crouched by the fire.<br>But the door is wide<br>In the hedgerow side,<br>And we ask not bowl nor spoon<br>Whose draught of must<br>Makes soft the crust<br>At the Inn of the Silver Moon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then, here's to the Inn<br>Of the empty bin,<br>To the Host of the trackless dune!<br>And here's to the friend<br>Of the journey's end<br>At the Inn of the Silver Moon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Herman+K+Viele">Herman K Viele</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=576513" data-title="The Good Inn de Herman K Viele" data-description="What care if the day Be turned to gray, What care if the night come soon! We may choose the pace Who bow for grace At the Inn of the Silver Moon. Ah, hurrying Sirs, Drive deep your spurs, For it's far to the steepled town - Where the wallet's wei..."></div> </div> </div>

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