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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391635" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Queen Of Prussia's Tomb</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In sweet pride upon that insult keen<br>She smiled; then drooping mute and broken-hearted,<br>To the cold comfort of the grave departed. ~ Milman. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It stands where northern willows weep,<br>A temple fair and lone;<br>Soft shadows o'er its marble sweep,<br>From cypress-branches thrown;<br>While silently around it spread,<br>Thou feel'st the presence of the dead. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And what within is richly shrined?<br>A sculptur'd woman's form,<br>Lovely in perfect rest reclined,<br>As one beyond the storm:<br>Yet not of death, but slumber, lies<br>The solemn sweetness on those eyes. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The folded hands, the calm pure face,<br>The mantle's quiet flow,<br>The gentle, yet majestic grace,<br>Throned on the matron brow;<br>These, in that scene of tender gloom,<br>With a still glory robe the tomb. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There stands an eagle, at the feet<br>Of the fair image wrought;<br>A kingly emblem–nor unmeet<br>To wake yet deeper thought:<br>She whose high heart finds rest below,<br>Was royal in her birth and wo. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There are pale garlands hung above,<br>Of dying scent and hue;–<br>She was a mother–in her love<br>How sorrowfully true!<br>Oh! hallow'd long be every leaf,<br>The record of her children's grief! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She saw their birthright's warrior-crown<br>Of olden glory spoil'd,<br>The standard of their sires borne down,<br>The shield's bright blazon soil'd:<br>She met the tempest meekly brave,<br>Then turn'd o'erwearied to the grave. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She slumber'd; but it came–it came,<br>Her land's redeeming hour,<br>With the glad shout, and signal flame<br>Sent on from tower to tower!<br>Fast thro' the realm a spirit moved–<br>'Twas hers, the lofty and the loved. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then was her name a note that wrung<br>To rouse bold hearts from sleep;<br>Her memory, as a banner flung<br>Forth by the Baltic deep;<br>Her grief, a bitter vial pour'd<br>To sanctify th' avenger's sword. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the crown'd eagle spread again<br>His pinion to the sun;<br>And the strong land shook off its chain–<br>So was the triumph won!<br>But wo for earth, where sorrow's tone<br>Still blends with victory's!–She was gone!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Felicia+Dorothea+Hemans">Felicia Dorothea Hemans</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=391635" data-title="The Queen Of Prussia's Tomb de Felicia Dorothea Hemans" data-description="In sweet pride upon that insult keen
She smiled; then drooping mute and broken-hearted,
To the cold comfort of the grave departed. ~ Milman. 

It stands where northern willows weep,
A temple fair and lone;
Soft shadows o'er its marble sweep,
From ..."></div>
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