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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116036" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Morning</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116036" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The Muses' friend (grey-eyed Aurora) yet<br>Held all the meadows in a cooling sweat,<br>The milk-white gossamers not upwards snow'd,<br>Nor was the sharp and useful-steering goad<br>Laid on the strong-neck'd ox; no gentle bud<br>The sun had dried; the cattle chew'd the cud<br>Low levell'd on the grass; no fly's quick sting<br>Enforc'd the stonehorse in a furious ring<br>To tear the passive earth, nor lash his tail<br>About his buttocks broad; the slimy snail<br>Might on the wainscot, by his many mazes,<br>Winding meanders and self-knitting traces,<br>Be follow'd where he stuck, his glittering slime<br>Not yet wip'd off. It was so early time,<br>The careful smith had in his sooty forge<br>Kindled no coal; nor did his hammers urge<br>His neighbours' patience: owls abroad did fly,<br>And day as then might plead his in fancy.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=William+Browne">William Browne</a></strong></div>

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