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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=386702" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sunrise</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Weep for the martyr! Strew his bier<br>With the last roses of the year;<br>Shadow the land with sables; knell<br>The harsh-tongued, melancholy bell;<br>Beat the dull muffled drum, and flaunt<br>The drooping banner; let the chant<br>Of the deep-throated organ sob-<br>One voice, one sorrow, one heart-throb,<br>From land to land, from sea to sea-<br>The huge world quires his elegy.<br>Tears, love, and honor he shall have,<br>Through ages keeping green his grave.<br>Too late approved, too early lost,<br>His story is the people's boast.<br>Tough-sinewed offspring of the soil,<br>Of peasant lineage, reared to toil,<br>In Europe he had been a thing<br>To the glebe tethered-here a king!<br>Crowned not for some transcendent gift,<br>Genius of power that may lift<br>A Caesar or a Bonaparte<br>Up to the starred goal of his heart;<br>But that he was the epitome<br>Of all the people aim to be.<br>Were they his dying trust? He was<br>No less their model and their glass.<br>In him the daily traits were viewed<br>Of the undistinguished multitude.<br>Brave as the silent myriads are,<br>Crushed by the juggernaut world-car;<br>Strong with the people's strength, yet mild,<br>Simple and tender as a child;<br>Wise with the wisdom of the heart,<br>Able in council, field, and mart;<br>Nor lacking in the lambent gleam,<br>The great soul's final stamp-the beam<br>Of genial fun, the humor sane<br>Wherewith the hero sports with pain.<br>His virtues hold within the span<br>Of his obscurest fellow-man.<br>To live without reproach, to die<br>Without a fear-in these words lie<br>His highest aims, for none too high.<br>No triumph his beyond the reach<br>Of patient courage, kindly speech;<br>And yet so brave the soul outbreathed,<br>The great example he bequeathed,<br>Were all to follow, we should see<br>A universal chivalry.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>His trust, the People! They respond<br>From Maine to Florida, beyond<br>The sea-walled continent's broad scope,<br>Honor his pledge, confirm his hope.<br>Hark! over seas the echo hence,<br>The nations do him reverence.<br>An Empress lays her votive wreath<br>Where peoples weep with bated breath.<br>The world-clock strikes a fateful hour,<br>Bright with fair portents, big with power,-<br>The first since history's course has run,<br>When kings' and peoples' cause is one;<br>Those mourn a brother-these a son!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O how he loved them! That gray morn,<br>When his wound-wasted form was borne<br>North, from the White House to the sea,<br>Lifting his tired lids thankfully,<br>'How good,' he murmured in his pain,<br>'To see the people once again!'<br>Oh, how they loved him! They stood there,<br>Thronging the road, the street, the square,<br>With hushed lips locked in silent prayer,<br>Uncovered heads and streaming eyes,<br>Breathless as when a father dies.<br>The records of the ghostly ride,<br>Past town and field at morning-tide.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When life's full stream is wont to gush<br>Through all its ways with boisterous rush,<br>-The records note that once a hound<br>Had barked, and once was heard the sound<br>Of cart-wheels rumbling on the stones-<br>And once, mid stifled sobs and groans,<br>One man dared audibly lament,<br>And cried, 'God bless the president!'<br>Always the waiting crowds to send<br>A God-speed to his journey's end-<br>The anxious whisper, brow of gloom,<br>As in a sickness-sacred room,<br>Till his ear drank with ecstasy<br>The rhythmic thunders of the sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Tears for the smitten fatherless,<br>The wife's, the mother's life-distress,<br>To whom the million-throated moan<br>From throne and hut, may not atone<br>For one hushed voice, one empty chair,<br>One presence missing everywhere.<br>But only words of joy and sheer,<br>The people from his grave shall hear.<br>Were they not worthy of his trust,<br>From whose seed sprang the sacred dust?<br>He broke the bars that separate<br>The humble from the high estate.<br>And heirs of empire round his bed<br>Mourn with the 'disinherited.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, toil-worn, patient Heart that bleeds,<br>Whose martyrdom even his exceeds,<br>Wronged, cursed, despised, misunderstood-<br>Oh, all-enduring multitude,<br>Rejoice! amid you tears, rejoice!<br>There issues from this grave a voice,<br>Proclaiming your long night is o'er,<br>Your day-dawn breaks from shore to shore.<br>You have redeemed his pledge, remained<br>Secure, erect, and self-sustained,<br>Holding more dear one thing alone,<br>Even than the blood of dearest son,<br>Revering with religious awe<br>The inviolable might of Law.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Emma+Lazarus">Emma Lazarus</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=386702" data-title="Sunrise de Emma Lazarus" data-description="Weep for the martyr! Strew his bier
With the last roses of the year;
Shadow the land with sables; knell
The harsh-tongued, melancholy bell;
Beat the dull muffled drum, and flaunt
The drooping banner; let the chant
Of the deep-throated organ sob-
O..."></div>
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