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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117922" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>St. Francis Xavier</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">He left his dust, by all the myriad tread<br>Of yon dense millions trampled to the strand,<br>Or 'neath some cross forgotten lays his head<br>Where dark seas whiten on a lonely land:<br>He left his work, what all his life had planned,<br>A waning flame to flicker and to fall,<br>Mid the huge myths his toil could scarce withstand,<br>And the light died in temple and in hall,<br>And the old twilight sank and settled over all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He left his name, a murmur in the East,<br>That dies to silence amid older creeds,<br>With which he strove in vain: the fiery priest<br>Of faiths less fitted to their ruder needs:<br>As some lone pilgrim, with his staff and beads,<br>Mid forest-brutes whom ignorance makes tame,<br>He dwelt, and sowed an Eastern Church's seeds<br>He reigned, a teacher and a priest of fame:<br>He died and dying left a murmur and a name.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He died: and she, the Church that bade him go,<br>Yon dim Enchantress with her mystic claim,<br>Has ringed his forehead with her aureole-glow,<br>And monkish myths, and all the whispered fame<br>Of miracle, has clung about his name:<br>So Rome has said: but we, what answer we<br>Who in grim Indian gods and rites of shame<br>O'er all the East the teacher's failure see,<br>His Eastern Church a dream, his toil a vanity.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This then we say: as Time's dark face at last<br>Moveth its lips of thunder to decree<br>The doom that grew through all the murmuring past<br>To be the canon of the times to be:<br>No child of truth or priest of progress he,<br>Yet not the less a hero of his wars<br>Striving to quench the light he could not see,<br>And God, who knoweth all that makes and mars,<br>Judges his soul unseen which throbs among the stars.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">God only knows, man failing in his choice,<br>How far apparent failure may succeed,<br>God only knows what echo of His voice<br>Lives in the cant of many a fallen creed,<br>God only gives the labourer his meed<br>For all the lingering influence widely spread,<br>Broad branching into many a word and deed<br>When dim oblivion veils the fountain-head;<br>So lives and lingers on the spirit of the dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This then we say: let all things further rest<br>And this brave life, with many thousands more,<br>Be gathered up in the eternal's breast<br>In that dim past his Love is bending o'er:<br>Healing all shattered hopes and failure sore:<br>Since he had bravely looked on death and pain<br>For what he chose to worship and adore,<br>Cast boldly down his life for loss or gain<br>In the eternal lottery: not to be in vain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=G.K.+Chesterton">G.K. Chesterton</a><div class=q>
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<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=117922" data-title="St. Francis Xavier de G.K. Chesterton" data-description="He left his dust, by all the myriad tread/Of yon dense millions trampled to the strand,/Or 'neath some cross forgotten lays his head/Where dark seas whiten on a lonely land:/He left his work, what all his life had planned,/A waning flame to flicke..."></div>
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