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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=529757" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>False Poets And True (To Wordsworth)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=529757" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Look how the lark soars upward and is gone, <br>Turning a spirit as he nears the sky! <br>His voice is heard, but body there is none <br>To fix the vague excursions of the eye. <br>So, poets' songs are with us, tho' they die <br>Obscured, and hid by death's oblivious shroud, <br>And Earth inherits the rich melody <br>Like raining music from the morning cloud. <br>Yet, few there be who pipe so sweet and loud <br>Their voices reach us through the lapse of space: <br>The noisy day is deafen'd by a crowd <br>Of undistinguished birds, a twittering race; <br>But only lark and nightingale forlorn <br>Fill up the silences of night and morn.</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=Thomas+Hood">Thomas Hood</a></strong></div>

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