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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354035" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Reprieve</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A MOMENT since, he stood unmoved--alone; <br>Courage and thought on his resolv&emacr;d brow; <br>But hope is quivering in the broken tone, <br>Whose bitter anguish seems to shake him now: <br>Her light foot woke no echo as it came, <br>The rustling robe her sudden swiftness told; <br>She pleads for one who dies a death of shame; <br>She pleads--for agony and love are bold. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Oh! hear me, thou, who in the sunshine's glare <br>So calmly waitest till the warning bell <br>Shall of the closing hour of his despair <br>In gloomy notes of muffled triumph tell. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let him not die! Avenging Heaven is just; <br>Thine, a like fate in after years may be: <br>Thy forfeit head may gasping bite the dust, <br>While those thou lovest, plead in vain for thee! <br>Thou smilest sternly: thou could'st well brave death; <br>Hast braved it often on the tented field. <br>So fought my hero on th' ensanguined heath, <br>With desperate strength, that knew not how to yield: <br>But oh! the death whose punctual hour is set, <br>And waited for mid lingering thoughts of pain; <br>Where no excitement bids the heart forget, <br>And skill and courage are alike in vain; <br>Who shall find strength for that?--Oh! man, to whom <br>Fate, chance, or what thou wilt, hath given this hour-- <br>Upon whose will depends his dreaded doom-- <br>Doth it not awe thee, thinking of thy power? <br>In the wide battle's hot and furious rage, <br>Where the mix'd banners flutter to and fro, <br>Where all alike the desperate combat wage, <br>One of a thousand swords may pierce him through: <br>But, now, his life is in thy single hand: <br>To thee the strange and startling power is given-- <br>And thou shalt answer for this day's command <br>When ye stand face to face in God's own Heaven. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bear with me! pardon me this sudden start! <br>My words are bitter, for my heart is sore; <br>And oh! dark soldier of the iron heart, <br>Fain would I learn the speech should touch thee more! <br>He hath a mother--age hath dimm'd her sight-- <br>But when his quick returning step comes nigh, <br>She smiles, as though she saw a sudden light, <br>And turns to bless him with a stifled sigh. <br>When to her arms a lonely wretch I go, <br>And she doth ask for him, the true and the brave, <br>While on her cheek faint smiles of welcome glow, <br>How shall I answer 'he is in the grave!' <br>He hath a little son--a mirthful boy, <br>Whose coral lips with ready smiles are curl'd; <br>Wilt thou quench all the spring-time of his joy, <br>And leave him orphan in a friendless world? <br>Hast thou no children?--Do no visions come, <br>When the low night-wind through the poplar grieves-- <br>Echoes of farewell voices--sounds of home-- <br>For which thy busy day no leisure leaves? <br>Some one doth love thee--some one thou dost love-- <br>(For such the blessed lot of all on earth,) <br>Some one to whom thy thoughts oft fondly rove, <br>The sharer of thy sorrows and thy mirth; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who with dim weeping eyes, and thoughts that burn, <br>Sees thy proud form lead forth th' embattled host; <br>To whom 'a victory' speaks of thy return-- <br>And 'a defeat' means only thou are lost! <br>If such there be, (and on thy helm-worn brow <br>Sternness, not cruelty, doth seem to reign,) <br>Think it is she, who kneels before thee now, <br>Her heart which bursts with agony of pain. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Hark--'T is the warning stroke--his hour is come-- <br>I hear the bell slow clanging on the air-- <br>I hear the beating of the muffled drum-- <br>Thou hast a moment yet to save and spare! <br>Oh! when returning to thy native land, <br>Greeted with grateful tears and loud acclaim; <br>While gazing on thy homeward march they stand, <br>And smiling children shout thy welcome name: <br>How wilt thou bear the joyous village chimes, <br>Whose ringing peals remind thee of to-day-- <br>Will not my image haunt thee at those times? <br>And my hoarse desperate voice seem yet to pray? <br>When thy long term of bloody toil is past, <br>And the hush'd trumpet calls no more to arms-- <br>Will not his death thy tranquil brow o'ercast, <br>And rob that peaceful hour of half its charms? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When thy child's mother bends thy lip to press, <br>And her true hand lies clasp'd within thine own-- <br>Will her low voice have perfect power to bless, <br>Remembering me, the widow'd and the lone? <br>When they embrace thee--when they welcome thee-- <br>By all my hopes of Heaven, thy brow relents! <br>Oh! sign the paper--let his life go free-- <br>Give it me quick!'-- <br>'What ho! Raise her--the woman faints!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Caroline+Elizabeth+Sarah+Norton">Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton</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=354035" data-title="The Reprieve de Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton" data-description="A MOMENT since, he stood unmoved--alone; 
Courage and thought on his resolv&emacr;d brow; 
But hope is quivering in the broken tone, 
Whose bitter anguish seems to shake him now: 
Her light foot woke no echo as it came, 
The rustling robe her sudd..."></div>
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