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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=512679" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>From Boethius: De Consolatione Philosophiae; Book II. Metre 2.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=512679" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Though countless as the grains of sand<br>That roll at Eurus' loud command;<br>Though countless as the lamps of night<br>That glad us with vicarious light;<br>Fair plenty, gracious queen, should pour<br>The blessings of a golden shower,<br>Not all the gifts of fate combin'd<br>Would ease the hunger of the mind,<br>But swallowing call the mighty store,<br>Rapacity would call for more;<br>For still where wishes most abound<br>Unquench'd the thirst of gain is found;<br>In vain the shining gifts are sent,<br>For none are rich without content.</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=Samuel+Johnson">Samuel Johnson</a></strong></div>

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