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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=447366" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>He has picked grapes in the sun.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=447366" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">He has picked grapes in the sun. Oh it seems <br>Like a fairy tale, <br>Like a tale of dreams. <br>'He in his slender youth, with vines, with sun, <br>Under a blazing sky'— <br>The tale might run. <br>There's beauty for eye and mind, for sight and thought, <br>Here on the surface. <br>Plunge. This beauty's nought. <br>Vision succeeds to dream. Deep in his heart <br>Fierier beauty lives <br>Than this surface art. <br>He has no song to sing of fragrant soil <br>Who in his heart revolts <br>At unlovely toil. <br>He has known the real, the truth of it. It seems <br>Misery eats the heart <br>Out of fairest dreams. <br>He in his slender youth, at strife, in vain <br>Offers his life to set <br>The world right again.</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=Lesbia+Harford">Lesbia Harford</a></strong></div>

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