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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374260" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Waterloo Day</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">THIS is the day of our glory; this is our day to weep. <br>Under her dusty laurels England stirs in her sleep; <br>Dreams of her days of honour, terrible days that are dead, <br>Days of the making of story, days when the sword was red, </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>When all her fate and her future hung on the naked blade, <br>When by the sword of her children her place in the world was made, <br>When Honour sounded the trumpet and Valour leapt to obey, <br>And Heroes bought us the Empire that statesmen would sell to-day. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>England, wanton and weary, sunk in a slothful ease, <br>Has slain in her wars her thousands, but her tens of thousands in peace: <br>And the cowards grieve for her glory; their glory is in their shame; <br>They are glad of the moth in her banners, and the rust on her shining name. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Oh, if the gods would send us a balm for our sick, sad years, <br>Let them send us a sight of the scarlet, and the sound of the guns in our ears! <br>For valour and faith and honour--these grow where the red flower grows, <br>And the leaves for the Nation's healing must spring from the blood of her foes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edith+Nesbit">Edith Nesbit</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=374260" data-title="Waterloo Day de Edith Nesbit" data-description="THIS is the day of our glory; this is our day to weep. 
Under her dusty laurels England stirs in her sleep; 
Dreams of her days of honour, terrible days that are dead, 
Days of the making of story, days when the sword was red, 


When all her fate..."></div>
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