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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=421117" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To My Brother George</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=421117" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Many the wonders I this day have seen:<br>The sun, when first he kissed away the tears<br>That filled the eyes of Morn;—the laurelled peers<br>Who from the feathery gold of evening lean;— <br>The ocean with its vastness, its blue green,<br>Its ships, its rocks, its caves, its hopes, its fears,<br>Its voice mysterious, which whoso hears<br>Must think on what will be, and what has been.<br>E'en now, dear George, while this for you I write,<br>Cynthia is from her silken curtains peeping<br>So scantly, that it seems her bridal night,<br>And she her half-discovered revels keeping.<br>But what, without the social thought of thee,<br>Would be the wonders of the sky and sea?</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=John+Keats">John Keats</a></strong></div>

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