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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=348534" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Of Glory</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=348534" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">WHO will persuade me that one perfect song <br> Is not more glorious than a victor’s bays? <br> I know not who. I ask because the phrase <br>Runs lightly and the final words are strong. <br>But did you press me for a right or wrong, <br> Then would I bid you hunt for perfect lays, <br> And rouse the dust of dead heroic days, <br>And pass your judgement if you live so long. <br> <br>To me it seems more worth, when all is said, <br> To smoke a friend’s cigar and see the moon <br> Lie rippling on the Arno mid the strewn <br>White ranks of rippling stars, to give my head <br> Its own good leading, to expect no boon, <br>To sing, and damn the world, and join the dead. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=348534" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"></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=Arthur+Maquarie">Arthur Maquarie</a></strong></div>

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