<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117224" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ad Finem Fideles</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Far out, far out they lie. Like stricken women weeping,<br>Eternal vigil keeping with slow and silent tread—<br>Soft-shod as are the fairies, the winds patrol the prairies,<br>The sentinels of God about the pale and patient dead!<br>Above them, as they slumber in graves that none may number.<br>Dawns grow to day, days dim to dusk, and dusks in darkness pass;<br>Unheeded springs are born, unheeded summers brighten,<br>And winters wake to whiten the wilderness of grass.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Slow stride appointed years across their bivouac places,<br>With stern, devoted faces they lie, as when they lay,<br>In long battalions dreaming, till dawn, to eastward gleaming,<br>Awoke the clarion greeting of the bugles to the day.<br>The still and stealthy speeding of the pilgrim days unheeding,<br>At rest upon the roadway that their feet unfaltering trod,<br>The faithful unto death abide, with trust unshaken,<br>The morn when they shall waken to the reveille of God.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The faithful unto death! Their sleeping-places over<br>The torn and trampled clover to braver beauty blows;<br>Of all their grim campaigning no sight or sound remaining,<br>The memory of them mutely to greater glory grows.<br>Through waning ages winding, new inspiration finding,<br>Their creed of consecration like a silver ribbon runs,<br>Sole relic of the strife that woke the world to wonder<br>With riot and the thunder of a sundered people’s guns.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What matters now the cause? As little children resting,<br>No more the battle breasting to the rumble of the drums,<br>Enlinked by duty’s tether, the blue and gray together,<br>They wait the great hereafter when the last assembly comes.<br>Where’er the summons found them, whate’er the tie that bound them,<br>’T is this alone the record of the sleeping army saith:—<br>They knew no creed but this, in duty not to falter,<br>With strength that naught could alter to be faithful unto death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Guy+Wetmore+Carryl">Guy Wetmore Carryl</a> from <i>The Garden of Years and Other 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=117224" data-title="Ad Finem Fideles de Guy Wetmore Carryl" data-description="Far out, far out they lie. Like stricken women weeping,/Eternal vigil keeping with slow and silent tread—/Soft-shod as are the fairies, the winds patrol the prairies,/The sentinels of God about the pale and patient dead!/Above them, as they slum..."></div> </div> </div>

solid border dashed border dotted border double border groove border ridge border inset border outset border no border blue green red purple cyan gold silver black