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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=373884" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>O Glorious France</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">You have become a forge of snow-white fire, <br>A crucible of molten steel, O France! <br>Your sons are stars who cluster to a dawn <br>And fade in light for you, O glorious France! <br>They pass through meteor changes with a song <br>Which to all islands and all continents <br>Says life is neither comfort, wealth, nor fame, <br>Nor quiet hearthstones, friendship, wife nor child, <br>Nor love, nor youth's delight, nor manhood's power, <br>Nor many days spent in a chosen work, <br>Nor honored merit, nor the patterned theme <br>Of daily labor, nor the crowns nor wreaths <br>Of seventy years. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">These are not all of life, <br>O France, whose sons amid the rolling thunder <br>Of cannon stand in trenches where the dead <br>Clog the ensanguined ice. But life to these <br>Prophetic and enraptured souls in vision, <br>And the keen ecstasy of faded strife, <br>And divination of the loss as gain, <br>And reading mysteries with brightened eyes <br>In fiery shock and dazzling pain before <br>The orient splendour of the face of Death, <br>As a great light beside a shadowy sea; <br>And in a high will's strenuous exercise, <br>Where the warmed spirit finds its fullest strength <br>And is no more afraid, and in the stroke <br>Of azure lightning when the hidden essence <br>And shifting meaning of man's spiritual worth <br>And mystical significance in time <br>Are instantly distilled to one clear drop <br>Which mirrors earth and heaven. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">This is life <br>Flaming to heaven in a minute's span <br>When the breath of battle blows the smouldering spark. <br>And across these seas <br>We who cry Peace and treasure life and cling <br>To cities, happiness, or daily toil <br>For daily bread, or trail the long routine <br>Of seventy years, taste not the terrible wine <br>Whereof you drink, who drain and toss the cup <br>Empty and ringing by the finished feast; <br>Or have it shaken from your hand by sight <br>Of God against the olive woods. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">As Joan of Arc amid the apple trees <br>With sacred joy first heard the voices, then <br>Obeying plunged at Orleans in a field <br>Of spears and lived her dream and died in fire, <br>Thou, France, hast heard the voices and hast lived <br>The dream and known the meaning of the dream, <br>And read its riddle: how the soul of man <br>May to one greatest purpose make itself <br>A lens of clearness, how it loves the cup <br>Of deepest truth, and how its bitterest gall <br>Turns sweet to soul's surrender. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And you say: <br>Take days for repitition, stretch your hands <br>For mocked renewal of familiar things: <br>The beaten path, the chair beside the window, <br>The crowded street, the task, the accustomed sleep, <br>And waking to the task, or many springs <br>Of lifted cloud, blue water, flowering fields -- <br>The prison-house grows close no less, the feast <br>A place of memory sick for senses dulled <br>Down to the dusty end where pitiful Time <br>Grown weary cries Enough!</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=373884" data-title="O Glorious France de Edgar Lee Masters" data-description="You have become a forge of snow-white fire, 
A crucible of molten steel, O France! 
Your sons are stars who cluster to a dawn 
And fade in light for you, O glorious France! 
They pass through meteor changes with a song 
Which to all islands and al..."></div>
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