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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536540" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>St. Valentine's Day</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536540" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">TO-DAY, all day, I rode upon the down, <br>With hounds and horsemen, a brave company <br>On this side in its glory lay the sea, <br>On that the Sussex weald, a sea of brown. <br>The wind was light, and brightly the sun shone, <br>And still we gallop'd on from gorse to gorse: <br>And once, when check'd, a thrush sang, and my horse <br>Prick'd his quick ears as to a sound unknown. <br>   I knew the Spring was come. I knew it even <br>Better than all by this, that through my chase <br>In bush and stone and hill and sea and heaven <br>I seem'd to see and follow still your face. <br>Your face my quarry was. For it I rode, <br>My horse a thing of wings, myself a god.</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=Wilfrid+Scawen+Blunt">Wilfrid Scawen Blunt</a></strong></div>

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