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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=384414" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>High Noon</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Time’s finger on the dial of my life<br>Points to high noon! And yet the half-spent day<br>Leaves less than half remaining, for the dark, <br>Bleak shadows of the grave engulf the end.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To those who burn the candle to the stick, <br>The sputtering socket yields but little light.<br>Long life is sadder than early death.<br>We cannot count on raveled threads of age<br>Whereof to weave a fabric. We must use<br>The warp and woof the ready present yields<br>And toils while daylight lasts. When I bethink<br>How brief the past, the future still more brief, <br>Calls on to action, action! Not for me<br>Is time for retrospection or for dreams, <br>Not time for self-laudation or remorse.<br>Have I done nobly? Then I must not let<br>Dead yesterday unborn to-morrow shame.<br>Have I done wrong? Well, let the bitter taste <br>Of fruit that turned to ashes on my lip<br>Be my reminder in temptations hour, <br>And keep me silent when I could condemn.<br>Sometimes it takes the acid of a sin<br>To cleanse the clouded windows of our souls<br>So pity may shine through them.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">	Looking back, <br>My faults and errors seem like stepping-stones<br>That led the way to knowledge of the truth<br>And made me value virtue: sorrows shine<br>In rainbow colours o’er the gulf of years, <br>Where lie forgotten pleasures.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">	Looking forth, <br>Out to the westers sky still bright with noon, <br>I feel well spurred and booted for the strife<br>That ends not till Nirvana is attained.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Battling with fate, with men and with myself, <br>Up the steep summit of my life’s forenoon, <br>Three things I learned, three things of precious worth<br>To guide and help me down the western slope.<br>I have learned how to pray, and toil, and save.<br>To pray for courage to receive what comes, <br>Knowing what comes to be divinely sent.<br>To toil for universal good, since thus<br>And only thus can good come unto me.<br>To save, by giving whatsoe’er I have<br>To those who have not, this alone is gain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ella+Wheeler+Wilcox">Ella Wheeler Wilcox</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=384414" data-title="High Noon de Ella Wheeler Wilcox" data-description="Time’s finger on the dial of my life
Points to high noon! And yet the half-spent day
Leaves less than half remaining, for the dark, 
Bleak shadows of the grave engulf the end.

To those who burn the candle to the stick, 
The sputtering socket yi..."></div>
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