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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=506876" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Rose Pogonias</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=506876" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">A saturated meadow,<br> Sun-shaped and jewel-small,<br>A circle scarcely wider<br> Than the trees around were tall;<br>Where winds were quite excluded,<br> And the air was stifling sweet<br>With the breath of many flowers, --<br> A temple of the heat.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=506876" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">There we bowed us in the burning,<br> As the sun's right worship is,<br>To pick where none could miss them<br> A thousand orchises;<br>For though the grass was scattered,<br> yet every second spear<br>Seemed tipped with wings of color,<br> That tinged the atmosphere.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=506876" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">We raised a simple prayer<br> Before we left the spot,<br>That in the general mowing<br> That place might be forgot;<br>Or if not all so favored,<br> Obtain such grace of hours,<br>that none should mow the grass there<br> While so confused with flowers.</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=Robert+Frost">Robert Frost</a></strong></div>

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