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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473319" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To Milton</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473319" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">MILTON! I think thy spirit hath passed away<br> From these white cliffs, and high-embattled towers;<br> This gorgeous fiery-coloured world of ours<br> Seems fallen into ashes dull and grey,<br> And the age changed unto a mimic play<br> Wherein we waste our else too-crowded hours:<br> For all our pomp and pageantry and powers<br> We are but fit to delve the common clay,<br> Seeing this little isle on which we stand,<br> This England, this sea-lion of the sea,<br> By ignorant demagogues is held in fee,<br> Who love her not: Dear God! is this the land<br> Which bare a triple empire in her hand<br> When Cromwell spake the word Democracy!</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=Oscar+Wilde">Oscar Wilde</a></strong></div>

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