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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=360658" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sacred To the Memory of Algernon R. G. Stanhope</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">“THE silver cord is loosed,” he said, <br>“The golden bowl is broken; <br>A few more prayers having been prayed, <br>A few more love-words spoken, <br>I shall turn my face unto the wall, <br>And sleeping, not be woken.”<br>“Is it a better place, my child, <br>That thou art gone unto? <br>Upon this earth that thou hast left <br>Hadst thou not much to do? <br>Would not thy joys have been a crowd <br>And thy troubles small and few?<br>“Beauty and rank and friends and wealth, <br>Genius and excellence,— <br>Could not all these, thy heritage, <br>Win thee from hastening hence? <br>Was the soul so much more unto thee <br>Than joys of mind and sense?<br>“And, bending with an English grace, <br>The ladies of our isle, <br>With their soft curls and their virgin eyes <br>Which look so sweet the while, <br>Had given thee for thy nobleness <br>A precious golden smile.<br>“These will not now be thine: thy life's <br>Appointed period <br>Being past o'er, thou liest on <br>The folded pinions broad <br>Of the Seraph who is bearing thee <br>Up through the sun to God.<br>“It has a solemn sound—‘to God’; <br>And strange high thoughts it weaves <br>Of a garden where the Tree of Life <br>Its mystic shadow gives, <br>And the music of the rapid worlds <br>Is the wind that stirs the leaves.<br>“Surely, it is a better place: <br>Wealth shuts not there his ken <br>From woes his heart yearns to assuage; <br>Nor noble origin <br>Wounds him by lessening trust betwixt <br>Him and his fellow-men.<br>“Nor friends die from him, but instead <br>Come to him where he is; <br>Nor Passion, rank with evil joys <br>And worse satieties, <br>Pouting her crimson lips at him <br>Layeth her cheek to his.<br>“Nor priests be there, like a bad dream <br>That at your bed's foot stands <br>All night (and yet it goes at last); <br>Nor moans of king-curst lands <br>Make his breast heave and his pale brow <br>To drop into his hands.<br>“But Love walks always with him now; <br>And Faith, not chained but free; <br>And Hope, bent forward, and with hair <br>Held back continually <br>To hear the distant chariot-wheels; <br>And wise calm Charity.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Dante+Gabriel+Rossetti">Dante Gabriel Rossetti</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=360658" data-title="Sacred To the Memory of Algernon R. G. Stanhope de Dante Gabriel Rossetti" data-description="“THE silver cord is loosed,” he said, 
“The golden bowl is broken; 
A few more prayers having been prayed, 
A few more love-words spoken, 
I shall turn my face unto the wall, 
And sleeping, not be woken.”
“Is it a better place, my child,..."></div>
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