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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408360" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Names Upon a Stone: (Inscribed to G. L. Fagan, Esq.)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">ACROSS bleak widths of broken sea<br>A fierce north-easter breaks,<br>And makes a thunder on the lea—<br>A whiteness of the lakes.<br>Here, while beyond the rainy stream<br>The wild winds sobbing blow,<br>I see the river of my dream<br>Four wasted years ago.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Narrara of the waterfalls,<br>The darling of the hills,<br>Whose home is under mountain walls<br>By many-luted rills!<br>Her bright green nooks and channels cool<br>I never more may see;<br>But, ah! the Past was beautiful—<br>The sights that used to be.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There was a rock-pool in a glen<br>Beyond Narrara’s sands;<br>The mountains shut it in from men<br>In flowerful fairy lands;<br>But once we found its dwelling-place—<br>The lovely and the lone—<br>And, in a dream, I stooped to trace<br>Our names upon a stone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Above us, where the star-like moss<br>Shone on the wet, green wall<br>That spanned the straitened stream across,<br>We saw the waterfall—<br>A silver singer far away,<br>By folded hills and hoar;<br>Its voice is in the woods to-day—<br>A voice I hear no more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I wonder if the leaves that screen<br>The rock-pool of the past<br>Are yet as soft and cool and green<br>As when we saw them last!<br>I wonder if that tender thing,<br>The moss, has overgrown<br>The letters by the limpid spring—<br>Our names upon the stone!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Across the face of scenes we know<br>There may have come a change—<br>The places seen four years ago<br>Perhaps would now look strange.<br>To you, indeed, they cannot be<br>What haply once they were:<br>A friend beloved by you and me<br>No more will greet us there.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Because I know the filial grief<br>That shrinks beneath the touch—<br>The noble love whose words are brief—<br>I will not say too much;<br>But often when the night-winds strike<br>Across the sighing rills,<br>I think of him whose life was like<br>The rock-pool’s in the hills.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A beauty like the light of song<br>Is in my dreams, that show<br>The grand old man who lived so long<br>As spotless as the snow.<br>A fitting garland for the dead<br>I cannot compass yet;<br>But many things he did and said<br>I never will forget.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In dells where once we used to rove<br>The slow, sad water grieves;<br>And ever comes from glimmering grove<br>The liturgy of leaves.<br>But time and toil have marked my face,<br>My heart has older grown<br>Since, in the woods, I stooped to trace<br>Our names upon the stone.</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=408360" data-title="Names Upon a Stone: (Inscribed to G. L. Fagan, Esq.) de Henry Kendall" data-description="ACROSS bleak widths of broken sea
A fierce north-easter breaks,
And makes a thunder on the lea—
A whiteness of the lakes.
Here, while beyond the rainy stream
The wild winds sobbing blow,
I see the river of my dream
Four wasted years ago.

Narrar..."></div>
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