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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=342030" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Mentana : First Anniversary</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">At the time when the stars are grey,<br> And the gold of the molten moon<br>Fades, and the twilight is thinned,<br>And the sun leaps up, and the wind,<br>A light rose, not of the day,<br> A stronger light than of noon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As the light of a face much loved<br> Was the face of the light that clomb;<br>As a mother's whitened with woes<br>Her adorable head that arose;<br>As the sound of a God that is moved,<br> Her voice went forth upon Rome.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At her lips it fluttered and failed<br> Twice, and sobbed into song,<br>And sank as a flame sinks under;<br>Then spake, and the speech was thunder,<br>And the cheek as he heard it paled<br> Of the wrongdoer grown grey with the wrong.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Is it time, is it time appointed,<br> Angel of time, is it near?<br>For the spent night aches into day<br>When the kings shall slay not or pray,<br>And the high-priest, accursed and anointed,<br> Sickens to deathward with fear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;For the bones of my slain are stirred,<br> And the seed of my earth in her womb<br>Moves as the heart of a bud<br>Beating with odorous blood<br>To the tune of the loud first bird<br> Burns and yearns into bloom.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;I lay my hand on her bosom,<br> My hand on the heart of my earth,<br>And I feel as with shiver and sob<br>The triumphant heart in her throb,<br>The dead petals dilate into blossom,<br> The divine blood beat into birth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;O my earth, are the springs in thee dry?<br> O sweet, is thy body a tomb?<br>Nay, springs out of springs derive,<br>And summers from summers alive,<br>And the living from them that die;<br> No tomb is here, but a womb.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;O manifold womb and divine,<br> Give me fruit of my children, give!<br>I have given thee my dew for thy root,<br>Give thou me for my mouth of thy fruit;<br>Thine are the dead that are mine,<br> And mine are thy sons that live.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;O goodly children, O strong<br> Italian spirits, that wear<br>My glories as garments about you,<br>Could time or the world misdoubt you,<br>Behold, in disproof of the wrong,<br> The field of the grave-pits there.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;And ye that fell upon sleep,<br> We have you too with us yet.<br>Fairer than life or than youth<br>Is this, to die for the truth:<br>No death can sink you so deep<br> As their graves whom their brethren forget.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Were not your pains as my pains?<br> As my name are your names not divine?<br>Was not the light in your eyes<br>Mine, the light of my skies,<br>And the sweet shed blood of your veins,<br> O my beautiful martyrs, mine?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Of mine earth were your dear limbs made,<br> Of mine air was your sweet life's breath;<br>At the breasts of my love ye were fed,<br>O my children, my chosen, my dead,<br>At my breasts where again ye are laid,<br> At the old mother's bosom, in death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;But ye that live, O their brothers,<br> Be ye to me as they were;<br>Give me, my children that live,<br>What these dead grudged not to give,<br>Who alive were sons of your mother's,<br> Whose lips drew breath of your air.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Till darkness by dawn be cloven,<br> Let youth's self mourn and abstain;<br>And love's self find not an hour,<br>And spring's self wear not a flower,<br>And Lycoris, with hair unenwoven,<br> Hail back to the banquet in vain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;So sooner and surer the glory<br> That is not with us shall be,<br>And stronger the hands that smite<br>The heads of the sons of night,<br>And the sound throughout earth of our story<br> Give all men heart to be free.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Algernon+Charles+Swinburne">Algernon Charles Swinburne</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=342030" data-title="Mentana : First Anniversary de Algernon Charles Swinburne" data-description="At the time when the stars are grey,
 And the gold of the molten moon
Fades, and the twilight is thinned,
And the sun leaps up, and the wind,
A light rose, not of the day,
 A stronger light than of noon.

As the light of a face much loved
 Was the..."></div>
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