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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=37652" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To a Friend</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=37652" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Who prop, thou ask'st in these bad days, my mind?--<br>He much, the old man, who, clearest-souled of men,<br>Saw The Wide Prospect, and the Asian Fen,<br>And Tmolus hill, and Smyrna bay, though blind.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=37652" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Much he, whose friendship I not long since won,<br>That halting slave, who in Nicopolis<br>Taught Arrian, when Vespasian's brutal son<br>Cleared Rome of what most shamed him. But be his</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=37652" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">My special thanks, whose even-balanced soul,<br>From first youth tested up to extreme old age,<br>Business could not make dull, nor passion wild;</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=37652" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Who saw life steadily, and saw it whole;<br>The mellow glory of the Attic stage,<br>Singer of sweet Colonus, and its child.</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=Matthew+Arnold">Matthew Arnold</a></strong> from <em><a href="http://sources.citatepedia.com/from.php?a=Matthew+Arnold&d=Sonnets">Sonnets</a></em></div>

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