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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=344301" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Odyssey</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=344301" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">AS one that for a weary space has lain <br>   Lull'd by the song of Circe and her wine <br>   In gardens near the pale of Proserpine, <br>Where that Aeaean isle forgets the main, <br>And only the low lutes of love complain, <br>   And only shadows of wan lovers pine-- <br>   As such an one were glad to know the brine <br>Salt on his lips, and the large air again-- <br>So gladly from the songs of modern speech <br>   Men turn, and see the stars, and feel the free <br>   Shrill wind beyond the close of heavy flowers, <br>   And through the music of the languid hours <br>They hear like Ocean on a western beach <br>   The surge and thunder of the Odyssey.</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=Andrew+Lang">Andrew Lang</a></strong></div>

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