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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=428565" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The End Of May</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=428565" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">THE fragrant air is full of down,<br>Of floating, fleecy things<br>From some forgotten fairy town<br>Where all the folk wear wings.<br>Or else the snowflakes, soft arrayed<br>In dainty suits of lace,<br>Have ventured back in masquerade,<br>Spring's festival to grace.<br>Or these, perchance, are fleets of fluff,<br>Laden with rainbow seeds,<br>That count their cargo rich enough<br>Though all its wealth be weeds.<br>Or come they from the golden trees,<br>Where dancing blossoms were,<br>That now are drifting on the breeze,<br>Sweet ghosts of gossamer?</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=Katharine+Lee+Bates">Katharine Lee Bates</a></strong></div>

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