<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115257" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To the century plant</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Plant of a hundred years! destroying Time<br> Passes thy gentle race with hurrying trend,<br> Leaves their bright petals colorless and dim,<br> Strews with their withered leaves the mossy bed,<br> And sweeps them onward with the countless dead,<br> Ere the swift passing of the summer hour --<br> But, beauteous flower, above thy towering head<br> An age hath passed and left no trace of power:<br> Plant of a hundred years, thou seem'st Time's favorite flower!<br> <br> I would that he had passed less lightly o'er thee,<br> And on thy polished leaves some record made,<br> Of all the scenes that long since passed before thee,<br> When round thee waved a forest, in whose shade<br> The Indian lover wooed his dusky maid, --<br> When the red warriors lit their council fires,<br> As peal'd the war-cry over hill and glade,<br> And then in triumph raised the funeral pyre<br> Of the ill-fated captive, bride, or son, or sire.<br> <br> Alas, fair flower! they've vanished from the earth,<br> That wronged and injured race, and none are here<br> Of all the friends that knew thee at thy birth, --<br> No longer near thee rests the wearied deer,<br> Thy sister flowers have faded with each year;<br> Still thou remainest, though they all have flown,<br> Like some strange being from another sphere,<br> Or like some aged man, sad and alone, --<br> May I not linger here, when those I love are gone!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anne+Lynch+Botta">Anne Lynch Botta</a> from <i>Poems</i><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115257" data-title="To the century plant de Anne Lynch Botta" data-description="Plant of a hundred years! destroying Time/ Passes thy gentle race with hurrying trend,/ Leaves their bright petals colorless and dim,/ Strews with their withered leaves the mossy bed,/ And sweeps them onward with the countless dead,/ Ere the ..."></div> </div> </div>

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