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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348508" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Poet To Be Yet</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">NOT he who sings smooth songs that soothe— <br> Sweet opiates that lull asleep <br> The sorrow that would only weep; <br> There are some spirit-stains so deep <br> That only tears may wash away. <br> Not he whose lays thrill fiercely till <br> The soul is sick with surfeiting, <br> Such passion flies, and leaves its sting, <br> Till through the body quivering <br> The wearied dull pain throbs again. <br> Not he whose glad voice says “Rejoice!” <br> For whom no clouds o'ercast the sky; <br> Whose god is in his heaven so high <br> That this dull world he come not nigh: <br> Life is no sun-kissed optimist! <br> But he who Sorrow's presence knows, <br> Who hears the minor chords beneath <br> The song of life, and feels the breath <br> Upon his cheek of quiet death, <br> Yet stirs and sings of life and love. <br> Who in his suffering yet can sing; <br> With that calm pathos in his face— <br> The hopeless yearning of the race— <br> Can chant the faith that holds its place, <br> Upsurging through each sore heart's speech; <br> <br> Who, though his heart bleed, onward leads; <br> Who knows eternal is our quest, <br> Yet bids us toil and strive—not rest— <br> Who looks life o'er and takes its best— <br> This is the poet to be yet!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Arthur+Henry+Adams">Arthur Henry Adams</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=348508" data-title="The Poet To Be Yet de Arthur Henry Adams" data-description="NOT he who sings smooth songs that soothe— 
 Sweet opiates that lull asleep 
 The sorrow that would only weep; 
 There are some spirit-stains so deep 
 That only tears may wash away. 
 Not he whose lays thrill fiercely till 
 The soul is sick wi..."></div>
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