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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=342691" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Word To The Unwise</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Charles Main, of Main & Winchester, attend<br>With friendly ear the chit-chat of a friend<br>Who knows you not, yet knows that you and he<br>Travel two roads that have a common end.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We journey forward through the time allowed,<br>I humbly bending, you erect and proud.<br>Our heads alike will stable soon the worm<br>The one that's lifted, and the one that's bowed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You in your mausoleum shall repose,<br>I where it pleases Him who sleep bestows;<br>What matter whether one so little worth<br>Shall stain the marble or shall feed the rose?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Charles Main, I had a friend who died one day.<br>A metal casket held his honored clay.<br>Of cyclopean architecture stood<br>The splendid vault where he was laid away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A dozen years, and lo! the roots of grass<br>Had burst asunder all the joints; the brass,<br>The gilded ornaments, the carven stones<br>Lay tumbled all together in a mass.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A dozen years! That taxes your belief.<br>Make it a thousand if the time's too brief.<br>'Twill be the same to you; when you are dead<br>You cannot even count your days of grief.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Suppose a pompous monument you raise<br>Till on its peak the solar splendor blaze<br>While yet about its base the night is black;<br>But will it give your glory length of days?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Say, when beneath your rubbish has been thrown,<br>Some rogue to reputation all unknown<br>Men's backs being turned-should lift his thieving hand,<br>Efface your name and substitute his own.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Whose then would be the monument? To whom<br>Would be the fame? Forgotten in your gloom,<br>Your very name forgotten-ah, my friend,<br>The name is all that's rescued by the tomb.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For memory of worth and work we go<br>To other records than a stone can show.<br>These lacking, naught remains; with these<br>The stone is needless for the world will know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then build your mausoleum if you must,<br>And creep into it with a perfect trust;<br>But in the twinkling of an eye the plow<br>Shall pass without obstruction through your dust.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Another movement of the pendulum,<br>And, lo! the desert-haunting wolf shall come,<br>And, seated on the spot, shall howl by night<br>O'er rotting cities, desolate and dumb.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ambrose+Bierce">Ambrose Bierce</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=342691" data-title="A Word To The Unwise de Ambrose Bierce" data-description="Charles Main, of Main & Winchester, attend
With friendly ear the chit-chat of a friend
Who knows you not, yet knows that you and he
Travel two roads that have a common end.

We journey forward through the time allowed,
I humbly bending, you erect ..."></div>
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