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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=373719" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>America</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Glorious daughter of time! Thou of the mild blue eye -- <br>Thou of the virginal forehead --pallid, unfurrowed of tears-- <br>Thou of the strong white hands with fingers dipped in the dye <br>Of the blood that quickened the fathers of thee, in the ancient years, <br>Leave thou the path of the beasts. Return thou again to the hills, <br>Forsake thou the deserts of death, where ever the burning thirst, <br>Flames in the throat for blood, for the vile desire that kills, <br>Where the treacherous sands by the rebel cerastes are cursed, <br>And the wastes are strewn with the bones of folly and hate. <br>Return! where the sunlight gladdens the places of green, <br>Where the stars comes forth, the heralds of faith and fate, <br>And the winds of eternity breathe from a day unseen. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou! what hast thou to do with a time burnt out and done? <br>With the old Serbonian bog-- the marshes where nations were lost? <br>Where wailings are heard of the dead, of the slaughtered Roman and Hun, <br>And phosphorent lights arise in the hands of a stricken ghost, <br>Dreaming of splendors of battle that glanced from a million shields, <br>When the C¾sars pillaged for lust of gold and hunger of power; <br>And the giants of Gothland festered and stank on the stretching fields, <br>And the gods of the living were cursed, too weak to reveal the hour, <br>When they should triumph and others should writhe in a dread defeat, <br>In the day of thy grace, O fair and false to thy fathers and time, <br>O thou whom the snares of kings already encompass thy feet, <br>With thy singing robes besprent with the old Egyptian slime. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But thou hast harkened to guile, to the cunning words of shame, <br>To the tempter with pieces of gold and the praise of the drunken throng. <br>Scornfully push from their hands the crown of a common fame, <br>Not made for thy peaceful brows, for thou wert not born for wrong. <br>Thou art the fruit of the groaning cycles of hope and love, <br>Told of by maddened prophets who never beheld thy face, <br>Who drew from the teeming earth and the fetterless sky above, <br>That man was made to be free, and to stamp under foot the mace. <br>How should thy innocent eyes ever leer with a reddened look? <br>Or thy hair be scented save of the measureless sea? <br>Or thy feet know the ways of deceit, wrote out in the murderous book, <br>By monarchs who shrank from the scourging and doom of thy strength and thee? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beloved of time and of fate, cherished of justice and truth, <br>Yet thou art free to do, to choose the ill and to die; <br>To squander thy beauty for hire, to waste thy eternal youth -- <br>For thou art eternal, if thou heedst them not, but pass by, <br>Pass and return to the mountains of freedom and peace, <br>Where heavenward flame the fires, where the torches may be relumed, <br>To girdle the world with the light that was kindled in olden Greece; <br>Or that the sparks may be scattered wherever injustice has doomed, <br>Darkness to be the portion of those who famish for light. <br>Be thou the great rock's shadow cast in a weary land, <br>Be thou a star of guidance true in a wintry night, <br>Be thou thyself, and thyself alone, as heaven hath planned.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edgar+Lee+Masters">Edgar Lee Masters</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=373719" data-title="America de Edgar Lee Masters" data-description="Glorious daughter of time! Thou of the mild blue eye -- 
Thou of the virginal forehead --pallid, unfurrowed of tears-- 
Thou of the strong white hands with fingers dipped in the dye 
Of the blood that quickened the fathers of thee, in the ancient ..."></div>
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