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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=384654" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Messenger</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">She rose up in the early dawn,<br>And white and silently she moved<br>About the house. Four men had gone<br>To battle for the land they loved,<br>And she, the mother and the wife,<br>Waited for tidings from the strife.<br>How still the house seemed! and her tread<br>Was like the footsteps of the dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The long day passed; the dark night came.<br>She had not seen a human face.<br>Some voice spoke suddenly her name.<br>How loud it echoed in that place,<br>Where, day on day, no sound was heard<br>But her own footsteps. 'Bring you word,'<br>She cried to whom she could not see,<br>'Word from the battle-plain to me?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>A soldier entered at the door,<br>And stood within the dim firelight;<br>'I bring you tidings of the four,'<br>He said, 'who left you for the fight.'<br>'God bless you, friend,' she cried, 'speak on!<br>For I can bear it. One is gone?'<br>'Ay, one is gone!' he said. 'Which one?'<br>'Dear lady, he, your eldest son.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>A deathly pallor shot across<br>Her withered face; she did not weep.<br>She said: 'It is a grievous loss,<br>But God gives His belovèd sleep.<br>What of the living-of the three?<br>And when can they come back to me?'<br>The soldier turned away his head:<br>'Lady, your husband, too, is dead.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>She put her hand upon her brow;<br>A wild, sharp pain was in her eyes.<br>'My husband! Oh, God, help me now!'<br>The soldier heard her shuddering sighs.<br>The task was harder than he thought.<br>'Your youngest son, dear madam, fought<br>Close at his father's side; both fell<br>Dead, by the bursting of a shell.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>She moved her lips and seemed to moan.<br>Her face had paled to ashen gray:<br>'Then one is left me-one alone,'<br>She said, 'of four who marched away.<br>Oh, overruling, All-wise God,<br>How can I pass beneath Thy rod!'<br>The soldier walked across the floor,<br>Paused at the window, at the door,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Wiped the cold dew-drops from his cheek<br>And sought the mourner's side again.<br>'Once more, dear lady, I must speak:<br>Your last remaining son was slain<br>Just at the closing of the fight,<br>'Twas he who sent me here to-night.'<br>'God knows,' the man said afterward,<br>'The fight itself was not so hard.'</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=384654" data-title="The Messenger de Ella Wheeler Wilcox" data-description="She rose up in the early dawn,
And white and silently she moved
About the house. Four men had gone
To battle for the land they loved,
And she, the mother and the wife,
Waited for tidings from the strife.
How still the house seemed! and her tread
W..."></div>
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