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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536555" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Idler’s Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. December</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536555" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">AWAY TO EGYPT</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536555" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Enough, enough! This winter is too rude,<br>Too dark of countenance, of tooth too keen.<br>Nature finds rebels now in flesh and blood,<br>And hearts grow sick for change and eyes for green.<br>Let us away! What profits it that men<br>Are wise as gods, if winter holds its sway,<br>If blood be chilled, and numbness clasp the brain?<br>Frost is too stubborn. Let us then away!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536555" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Away to Egypt! There we may forget<br>All but the presence of the blessed sun.<br>There in our tents well--housed, sublimely set<br>Under a pyramid, with horse and gun,<br>We may make terms with Nature and, awhile,<br>Put as it were our souls to grass, and run<br>Barefooted and barehearted in the smile<br>Of that long summer which still girds the Nile.</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>