<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408340" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>John Dunmore Lang</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The song that is last of the many<br>Whose music is full of thy name,<br>Is weaker, O father! than any,<br>Is fainter than flickering flame.<br>But far in the folds of the mountains<br>Whose bases are hoary with sea,<br>By lone immemorial fountains<br>This singer is mourning for thee.<br>Because thou wert chief and a giant<br>With those who fought on for the right<br>A hero determined, defiant;<br>As flame was the sleep of thy might.<br>Like Stephen in days that are olden,<br>Thy lot with a rabble was cast,<br>But seasons came on that were golden,<br>And Peace was thy mother at last.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I knew of thy fierce tribulation,<br>Thou wert ever the same in my thought —<br>The father and friend of a nation<br>Through good and through evil report.<br>At Ephesus, fighting in fetters,<br>Paul drove the wild beasts to their pen;<br>So thou with the lash of thy letters<br>Whipped infamy back to its den.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The noise of thy battle is over,<br>Thy sword is hung up in its sheath;<br>Thy grave has been decked by its lover<br>With beauty of willowy wreath.<br>The winds sing about thee for ever,<br>The voices of hill and of sea;<br>But the cry of the conflict will never<br>Bring sorrow again unto thee.</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> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=408340" data-title="John Dunmore Lang de Henry Kendall" data-description="The song that is last of the many Whose music is full of thy name, Is weaker, O father! than any, Is fainter than flickering flame. But far in the folds of the mountains Whose bases are hoary with sea, By lone immemorial fountains This singer is m..."></div> </div> </div>

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