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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409437" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Evangeline: Part The Second. I.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">MANY a weary year had passed since the burning of Grand-Pré,<br>When on the falling tide the freighted vessels departed,<br>Bearing a nation, with all its household gods, into exile,<br>Exile without an end, and without an example in story.<br>Far asunder, on separate coasts, the Acadians landed;<br>Scattered were they, like flakes of snow, when the wind from the northeast<br>Strikes aslant through the fogs that darken the Banks of Newfoundland.<br>Friendless, homeless, hopeless, they wandered from city to city,<br>From the cold lakes of the North to sultry Southern savannas,-<br>From the bleak shores of the sea to the lands where the Father of Waters<br>Seizes the hills in his hands, and drags them down to the ocean,<br>Deep in their sands to bury the scattered bones of the mammoth.<br>Friends they sought and homes; and many, despairing, heart-broken,<br>Asked of the earth but a grave, and no longer a friend nor a fireside.<br>Written their history stands on tablets of stone in the churchyards.<br>Long among them was seen a maiden who waited and wandered,<br>Lowly and meek in spirit, and patiently suffering all things.<br>Fair was she and young; but, alas! before her extended,<br>Dreary and vast and silent, the desert of life, with its pathway<br>Marked by the graves of those who had sorrowed and suffered before her,<br>Passions long extinguished, and hopes long dead and abandoned,<br>As the emigrant's way o'er the Western desert is marked by<br>Camp-fires long consumed, and bones that bleach in the sunshine.<br>Something there was in her life incomplete, imperfect, unfinished;<br>As if a morning of June, with all its music and sunshine,<br>Suddenly paused in the sky, and, fading, slowly descended<br>Into the east again, from whence it late had arisen.<br>Sometimes she lingered in towns, till, urged by the fever within her,<br>Urged by a restless longing, the hunger and thirst of the spirit,<br>She would commence again her endless search and endeavor;<br>Sometimes in churchyards strayed, and gazed on the crosses and tombstones,<br>Sat by some nameless grave, and thought that perhaps in its bosom<br>He was already at rest, and she longed to slumber beside him.<br>Sometimes a rumor, a hearsay, an inarticulate whisper,<br>Came with its airy hand to point and beckon her forward.<br>Sometimes she spake with those who had seen her beloved and known him,<br>But it was long ago, in some far-off place or forgotten.<br>'Gabriel Lajeunesse!' they said; 'O yes! we have seen him.<br>He was with Basil the blacksmith, and both have gone to the prairies;<br>Coureurs-des-Bois are they, and famous hunters and trappers,'<br>'Gabriel Lajeunesse!' said others; 'O yes! we have seen him.<br>He is a Voyageur in the lowlands of Louisiana.'<br>Then would they say: 'Dear child! why dream and wait for him longer?<br>Are there not other youths as fair as Gabriel? others<br>Who have hearts as tender and true, and spirits as loyal?<br>Here is Baptiste Leblanc, the notary's son, who has loved thee<br>Many a tedious year; come, give him thy hand and be happy!<br>Thou art too fair to be left to braid St. Catherine's tresses.'<br>Then would Evangeline answer, serenely but sadly, 'I cannot!<br>Whither my heart has gone, there follows my hand, and not elsewhere.<br>For when the heart goes before, like a lamp, and illumines the pathway,<br>Many things are made clear, that else lie hidden in darkness.'<br>Thereupon the priest, her friend and father-confessor,<br>Said, with a smile, 'O daughter! thy God thus speaketh within thee!<br>Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted;<br>If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, returning<br>Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment;<br>That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.<br>Patience; accomplish thy labor; accomplish thy work of affection!<br>Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike.<br>Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is made godlike,<br>Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more worthy of heaven!'<br>Cheered by the good man's words, Evangeline labored and waited.<br>Still in her heart she heard the funeral dirge of the ocean,<br>But with its sound there was mingled a voice that whispered, 'Despair not!'<br>Thus did that poor soul wander in want and cheerless discomfort,<br>Bleeding, barefooted, over the shards and thorns of existence.<br>Let me essay, O Muse! to follow the wanderer's footsteps;-<br>Not through each devious path, each changeful year of existence;<br>But as a traveller follows a streamlet's course through the valley:<br>Far from its margin at times, and seeing the gleam of its water<br>Here and there, in some open space, and at intervals only;<br>Then drawing nearer its banks, through sylvan glooms that conceal it,<br>Though he behold it not, he can hear its continuous murmur;<br>Happy, at length, if he find the spot where it reaches an outlet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Wadsworth+Longfellow">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</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=409437" data-title="Evangeline: Part The Second. I. de Henry Wadsworth Longfellow" data-description="MANY a weary year had passed since the burning of Grand-Pré,
When on the falling tide the freighted vessels departed,
Bearing a nation, with all its household gods, into exile,
Exile without an end, and without an example in story.
Far asunder, o..."></div>
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