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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355189" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Lines Addressed From London, To Sara And S.T.C. At Bristol, In The Summer Of 1796</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355189" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Was it so hard a thing? I did but ask<br>A fleeting holiday, a little week.<br>What if the jaded steer who all day long<br>Had borne the heat and burthen of the plough,<br>When evening came, and her sweet cooling hour,<br>Should seek to wander in a neighbour copse,<br>Where greener herbage waved, or clearer streams<br>Invited him to slake his burning thirst?<br>The man were crabbed who should say him nay,<br>The man were churlish who should drive him thence.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355189" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>A blessing light upon your worthy heads,<br>Ye hospitable pair! I may not come<br>To catch, on Clifden's heights, the summer gale;<br>I may not come to taste the Avon wave;<br>Or, with mine eye intent on Redcliffe towers,<br>To muse in tears on that mysterious youth,<br>Cruelly slighted, who, in evil hour,<br>Shaped his adventurous course to London walls!<br>Complaint, be gone! and, ominous thoughts, away!<br>Take up, my song, take up a merrier strain;<br>For yet again, and lo! from Avon's vales,<br>Another minstrel cometh. Youth endeared,<br>God and good angels guide thee on thy road,<br>And gentler fortunes wait the friends I love.</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+Lamb">Charles Lamb</a></strong></div>