<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408727" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sacred to the Memory of “Unknown”</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, the wild black swans fly westward still,<br>While the sun goes down in glory—<br>And away o’er lonely plain and hill<br>Still runs the same old story:<br>The sheoaks sigh it all day long—<br>It is safe in the Big Scrub’s keeping—<br>’Tis the butcher-birds’ and the bell-birds’ song<br>In the gum where ‘Unknown’ lies sleeping—<br>(It is heard in the chat of the soldier-birds<br>O’er the grave where ‘Unknown’ lies sleeping). <br>Ah! the Bushmen knew not his name or land,<br>Or the shame that had sent him here—<br>But the Bushmen knew by the dead man’s hand<br>That his past life lay not near.<br>The law of the land might have watched for him,<br>Or a sweetheart, wife, or mother;<br>But they bared their heads, and their eyes were dim,<br>For he might have been a brother!<br>(Ah! the death he died brought him near to them,<br>For he might have been a brother.) </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, the wild black swans to the westward fade,<br>And the sunset burns to ashes,<br>And three times bright on an eastern range<br>The light of a big star flashes,<br>Like a signal sent to a distant strand<br>Where a dead man’s love sits weeping.<br>And the night comes grand to the Great Lone Land<br>O’er the grave where ‘Unknown’ lies sleeping,<br>And the big white stars in their clusters blaze<br>O’er the Bush where ‘Unknown’ lies sleeping.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Lawson">Henry Lawson</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=408727" data-title="Sacred to the Memory of “Unknown” de Henry Lawson" data-description="Oh, the wild black swans fly westward still, While the sun goes down in glory— And away o’er lonely plain and hill Still runs the same old story: The sheoaks sigh it all day long— It is safe in the Big Scrub’s keeping— ’Tis the butcher..."></div> </div> </div>

solid border dashed border dotted border double border groove border ridge border inset border outset border no border blue green red purple cyan gold silver black