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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=381410" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Long Race</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=381410" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Up the old hill to the old house again <br>Where fifty years ago the friend was young <br>Who should be waiting somewhere there among <br>Old things that least remembered most remain, <br>He toiled on with a pleasure that was pain<br>To think how soon asunder would be flung <br>The curtain half a century had hung <br>Between the two ambitions they had slain. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=381410" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">They dredged an hour for words, and then were done. <br>“Good-bye!… You have the same old weather-vane— <br>Your little horse that’s always on the run.” <br>And all the way down back to the next train, <br>Down the old hill to the old road again, <br>It seemed as if the little horse had won.</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=Edwin+Arlington+Robinson">Edwin Arlington Robinson</a></strong></div>

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