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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355235" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Force Of Habit</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355235" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">A little child, who had desired<br>To go and see the Park guns fired,<br>Was taken by his maid that way<br>Upon the next rejoicing day.<br>Soon as the unexpected stroke<br>Upon his tender organs broke,<br>Confused and stunned at the report,<br>He to her arms fled for support,<br>And begged to be conveyed at once<br>Out of the noise of those great guns,<br>Those naughty guns, whose only sound<br>Would kill (he said) without a wound:<br>So much of horror and offence<br>The shock had given his infant sense.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355235" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>Yet this was he in after days<br>Who filled the world with martial praise,<br>When from the English quarter-deck<br>His steady courage swayed the wreck<br>Of hostile fleets, disturbed no more<br>By all that vast conflicting roar,<br>That sky and sea did seem to tear,<br>When vessels whole blew up in air,<br>Than at the smallest breath that heaves,<br>When Zephyr hardly stirs the leaves.</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>

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