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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=339856" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Gone</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">IN Collins Street standeth a statute tall, <br> A statue tall, on a pillar of stone, <br>Telling its story, to great and small, <br> Of the dust reclaimed from the sand waste lone; <br>Weary and wasted, and worn and wan, <br> Feeble and faint, and languid and low, <br>He lay on the desert a dying man; <br> Who has gone, my friends, where we all must go. <br> <br>There are perils by land, and perils by water, <br> Short, I ween, are the obsequies <br>Of the landsman lost, but they may be shorter <br> With the mariner lost in the trackless seas; <br>And well for him, when the timbers start, <br> And the stout ship reels and settles below, <br>Who goes to his doom with as bold a heart, <br> As that dead man gone where we all must go. <br> <br>Man is stubborn his rights to yield, <br> And redder than dews at eventide <br>Are the dews of battle, shed on the field, <br> By a nation’s wrath or a despot’s pride; <br>But few who have heard their death-knell roll, <br> From the cannon’s lips where they faced the foe, <br>Have fallen as stout and steady of soul, <br> As that dead man gone where we all must go. <br> <br>Traverse yon spacious burial ground, <br> Many are sleeping soundly there, <br>Who pass’d with mourners standing around, <br> Kindred, and friends, and children fair; <br>Did he envy such ending? ’twere hard to say; <br> Had he cause to envy such ending? no; <br>Can the spirit feel for the senseless clay, <br> When it once has gone where we all must go? <br> <br>What matters the sand or the whitening chalk, <br> The blighted herbage, the black’ning log, <br>The crooked beak of the eagle-hawk, <br> Or the hot red tongue of the native dog? <br>That couch was rugged, those sextons rude, <br> Yet, in spite of a leaden shroud, we know <br>That the bravest and fairest are earth-worms’ food, <br> When once they’ve gone where we all must go. <br> <br>With the pistol clenched in his failing hand, <br> With the death mist spread o’er his fading eyes, <br>He saw the sun go down on the sand, <br> And he slept, and never saw it rise; <br>’Twas well; he toil’d till his task was done, <br> Constant and calm in his latest throe, <br>The storm was weathered, the battle was won, <br> When he went, my friends, where we all must go. <br> <br>God grant that whenever, soon or late, <br> Our course is run and our goal is reach’d, <br>We may meet our fate as steady and straight <br> As he whose bones in yon desert bleach’d; <br>No tears are needed—our cheeks are dry, <br> We have none to waste upon living woe; <br>Shall we sigh for one who has ceased to sigh, <br> Having gone, my friends, where we all must go? <br> <br>We tarry yet, we are toiling still, <br> He is gone and he fares the best, <br>He fought against odds, he struggled up hill, <br> He has fairly earned his season of rest; <br>No tears are needed—fill our the wine, <br> Let the goblets clash, and the grape juice flow, <br>Ho! pledge me a death-drink, comrade mine, <br> To a brave man gone where we all must go. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Adam+Lindsay+Gordon">Adam Lindsay Gordon</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=339856" data-title="Gone de Adam Lindsay Gordon" data-description="IN Collins Street standeth a statute tall, 
 A statue tall, on a pillar of stone, 
Telling its story, to great and small, 
 Of the dust reclaimed from the sand waste lone; 
Weary and wasted, and worn and wan, 
 Feeble and faint, and languid and lo..."></div>
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