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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=354540" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Sun</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=354540" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Through the streets where at windows of old houses<br>the persian blinds hide secret luxuries,<br>when the cruel sun strikes with redoubled fury<br>on the roofs and fields, the meadows and city,<br>I go alone in my crazy sword-play<br>scenting a chance rhyme on every road-way,<br>stumbling on words and over the pavement<br>finding verses I often dreamed might be sent.<br>This nurturing father, anaemia’s foe<br>stirs, in the fields, the worm and the rose,<br>makes our cares evaporate into the blue,<br>fills the hives and our brains with honey-dew.<br>It is he who gives youth to the old man, the cripple,<br>makes them like young girls, happy and gentle,<br>and commands the crops to grow ripe in an hour<br>of the immortal heart, that so longs to flower.<br>When he shines on the town, a poet that sings,<br>he redeems the fate of the meanest things,<br>like a king he enters, no servants, alone,<br>all palaces, all hospitals where men moan.</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=Charles+Baudelaire">Charles Baudelaire</a></strong></div>

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