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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408266" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>At Euroma</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">They built his mound of the rough, red ground,<br>By the dip of a desert dell,<br>Where all things sweet are killed by the heat,<br>And scattered o'er flat and fell;<br>In a burning zone they left him alone,<br>Past the uttermost western plain,<br>And the nightfall dim heard his funeral hymn<br>In the voices of wind and rain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The songs austere of the forests drear,<br>And the echoes of clift and cave,<br>When the dark is keen where the storm hath been,<br>Fleet over the far-away grave.<br>And through the days when the torrid rays<br>Strike down on a coppery gloom,<br>Some spirit grieves in the perished leaves,<br>Whose theme is that desolate tomb.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No human foot or paw of brute<br>Halts now where the stranger sleeps;<br>But cloud and star his fellows are,<br>And the rain that sobs and weeps.<br>The dingo yells by the far iron fells,<br>The plover is loud in the range,<br>But they never come near to the slumberer here,<br>Whose rest is a rest without change.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! in his life, had he mother or wife,<br>To wait for his step on the floor?<br>Did beauty wax dim while watching for him<br>Who passed through the threshold no more?<br>Doth it trouble his head? He is one with the dead;<br>He lies by the alien streams;<br>And sweeter than sleep is death that is deep<br>And unvexed by the lordship of dreams.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Kendall">Henry Kendall</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=408266" data-title="At Euroma de Henry Kendall" data-description="They built his mound of the rough, red ground,
By the dip of a desert dell,
Where all things sweet are killed by the heat,
And scattered o'er flat and fell;
In a burning zone they left him alone,
Past the uttermost western plain,
And the nightfall..."></div>
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