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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391195" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Histrion</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391195" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">No man hath dared to write this thing as yet, <br>And yet I know, how that the souls of all men great <br>At times pass athrough us, <br>And we are melted into them, and are not <br>Save reflexions of their souls. <br>Thus am I Dante for a space and am <br>One Francois Villon, ballad-lord and thief, <br>Or am such holy ones I may not write <br>Lest blasphemy be writ against my name; <br>This for an instant and the flame is gone.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391195" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">'Tis as in midmost us there glows a sphere <br>Translucent, molten gold, that is the "I" <br>And into this some form projects itself: <br>Christus, or John, or eke the Florentine; <br>And as the clear space is not if a form's <br>Imposed thereon, <br>So cease we from all being for the time, <br>And these, the Masters of the Soul, live on.</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=Ezra+Pound">Ezra Pound</a></strong></div>

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