<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=37126" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The French Marshal</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">McMahon up the street of Paris came,<br> In triumph from Magenta. Every one<br>Had heard and praised the fearless marshal’s name,<br> And gloried in the deeds that he had done.<br>Crowds packed the walks, and at each seperate glass<br>A face was set to see the hero pass.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Grand music lifted in the morning air<br> Its eloquent voice. Loud-mouthed bells were rung,<br>Guns boomed till echoes welcomed everywhere;<br> On buildings and in streets proud flags were hung,<br>Half like the flags of brain-silk wrought with gold,<br>That hang on Shakespeare’s pages, fold on fold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But while the marshal up the street made way,<br> There came a little girl clothed all in white,<br>Bringing in happy hands a large bouquet;<br> Her flower-sweet face seemed fragrant with delight.<br>Well pleased, the soldier, dark and fierce at need,<br>Raised up the child before him on his steed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The pearly necklace of her loving arms<br> She bound on him, and laid her Spring-like head<br>Against the Autumn of his cheek, with charms<br> Of smile and mien; while to his shoulder fled<br>Her gold loose hair with flowers like jewels set,<br>And made thereon a wonderous epaulet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He seemed more like an angel than a man,<br> As, father-like, he paid back each caress;<br>Better than all his deeds in war’s red van,<br> Appeared this simple act of tenderness.<br>The people cried “Huzza!” and did not pause<br>Until the town seemed shaken with applause.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So, from this hour, the general became<br> The boast of the enthusiastic crowd;<br>Each gave some flower of praise to deck his fame;<br> They knew him brave—though often cold and proud;<br>But looked not for the kindness undefiled<br>That he had beamed upon the loving child.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O cynic, deem no more the world all base,<br> And scoff no more with either tongue or pen;<br>You do not see the face behind the face.<br> If God exists, there must be noble men;<br>And many, who to us seem hard and cold,<br>Have sunshine in their hearts as pure as gold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Abbey">Henry Abbey</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=37126" data-title="The French Marshal de Henry Abbey" data-description="McMahon up the street of Paris came,/ In triumph from Magenta. Every one/Had heard and praised the fearless marshal’s name,/ And gloried in the deeds that he had done./Crowds packed the walks, and at each seperate glass/A face was set to see the..."></div> </div> </div>

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