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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374835" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Hills of Whroo</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374835" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">'Far below us in a hollow <br>Slumber'ing in the morning haze, <br>Lay the quaint, old mining township, <br>Relic of the Roaring Days.<br>Through its empty streets we cantered <br>And our reins we never drew,<br>For our thoughts were in the future, <br>Riding o'er the hills of Whroo.'<br>'Aye; 'tis verdant green, old comrade, <br>But - your grave is verdant, too! <br>And we'll go no more together, <br>Riding o'er the hills of Whroo.'</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=Edward+Harrington">Edward Harrington</a></strong></div>

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