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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=409097" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sonnet 06</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=409097" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I scarcely grieve, O Nature! at the lot<br>That pent my life within a city's bounds,<br>And shut me from thy sweetest sights and sounds.<br>Perhaps I had not learned, if some lone cot<br>Had nursed a dreamy childhood, what the mart<br>Taught me amid its turmoil; so my youth<br>Had missed full many a stern but wholesome truth.<br>Here, too, O Nature! in this haunt of Art,<br>Thy power is on me, and I own thy thrall.<br>There is no unimpressive spot on earth!<br>The beauty of the stars is over all,<br>And Day and Darkness visit every hearth.<br>Clouds do not scorn us: yonder factory's smoke<br>Looked like a golden mist when morning broke.</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=Henry+Timrod">Henry Timrod</a></strong></div>

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