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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=508365" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Grand-Pa's Whim</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=508365" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">While for me gapes the greedy grave<br> It don't make sense<br>That I should have a crazy crave<br> To paint our fence.<br>Yet that is what I aim to do,<br> Though dim my sight:<br>Jest paint them aged pickets blue,<br> Or green or white.<br> <br>Jest squat serenely in the sun<br> Wi' brush an' paint,<br>An' gay them pickets one by one,<br> --A chore! It ain't.<br>The job is joy. Although I'm slow<br> I save expense:<br>So folks, let me before I go,<br> Smart that ol' fence.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=508365" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Them pickets with my hands I made,<br> When young and spry;<br>I coloured them a gleeful shade<br> To glad the eye.<br>So now as chirpy as a boy,<br> 'Ere I go hence,<br>Once more let me jest bright to joy<br> Our picket fence.</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+William+Service">Robert William Service</a></strong></div>