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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408380" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Robert Parkes</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">High travelling winds by royal hill<br>Their awful anthem sing,<br>And songs exalted flow and fill<br>The caverns of the spring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To-night across a wild wet plain<br>A shadow sobs and strays;<br>The trees are whispering in the rain<br>Of long departed days.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I cannot say what forest saith —<br>Its words are strange to me:<br>I only know that in its breath<br>Are tones that used to be.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yea, in these deep dim solitudes<br>I hear a sound I know —<br>The voice that lived in Penrith woods<br>Twelve weary years ago.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And while the hymn of other years<br>Is on a listening land,<br>The Angel of the Past appears<br>And leads me by the hand;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And takes me over moaning wave,<br>And tracts of sleepless change,<br>To set me by a lonely grave<br>Within a lonely range.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The halo of the beautiful<br>Is round the quiet spot;<br>The grass is deep and green and cool,<br>Where sound of life is not.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here in this lovely lap of bloom,<br>The grace of glen and glade,<br>That tender days and nights illume,<br>My gentle friend was laid.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I do not mark the shell that lies<br>Beneath the touching flowers;<br>I only see the radiant eyes<br>Of other scenes and hours.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I only turn, by grief inspired,<br>Like some forsaken thing,<br>To look upon a life retired<br>As hushed Bethesda’s spring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The glory of unblemished days<br>Is on the silent mound —<br>The light of years, too pure for praise;<br>I kneel on holy ground!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here is the clay of one whose mind<br>Was fairer than the dew,<br>The sweetest nature of his kind<br>I haply ever knew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This Christian, walking on the white<br>Clear paths apart from strife,<br>Kept far from all the heat and light<br>That fills his father’s life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The clamour and exceeding flame<br>Were never in his days:<br>A higher object was his aim<br>Than thrones of shine and praise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! like an English April psalm,<br>That floats by sea and strand,<br>He passed away into the calm<br>Of the Eternal Land.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The chair he filled is set aside<br>Upon his father’s floor;<br>In morning hours, at eventide,<br>His step is heard no more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No more his face the forest knows;<br>His voice is of the past;<br>But from his life of beauty flows<br>A radiance that will last.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yea, from the hours that heard his speech<br>High shining mem’ries give<br>That fine example which will teach<br>Our children how to live.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here, kneeling in the body, far<br>From grave of flower and dew,<br>My friend beyond the path of star,<br>I say these words to you.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though you were as a fleeting flame<br>Across my road austere,<br>The memory of your face became<br>A thing for ever dear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I never have forgotten yet<br>The Christian’s gentle touch;<br>And, since the time when last we met,<br>You know I’ve suffered much.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I feel that I have given pain<br>By certain words and deeds,<br>But stricken here with Sorrow’s rain,<br>My contrite spirit bleeds.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For your sole sake I rue the blow,<br>But this assurance send:<br>I smote, in noon, the public foe,<br>But not the private friend.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I know that once I wronged your sire,<br>But since that awful day<br>My soul has passed through blood and fire,<br>My head is very grey.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here let me pause! From years like yours<br>There ever flows and thrives<br>The splendid blessing which endures<br>Beyond our little lives.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">From lonely lands across the wave<br>Is sent to-night by me<br>This rose of reverence for the grave<br>Beside the mountain lea.</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=408380" data-title="Robert Parkes de Henry Kendall" data-description="High travelling winds by royal hill
Their awful anthem sing,
And songs exalted flow and fill
The caverns of the spring.

To-night across a wild wet plain
A shadow sobs and strays;
The trees are whispering in the rain
Of long departed days.

I cann..."></div>
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