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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419590" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Necrological</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The friar had said his paternosters duly <br>And scourged his limbs, and afterwards would have slept; <br>But with much riddling his head became unruly, <br>He arose, from the quiet monastery he crept. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dawn lightened the place where the battle had been won. <br>The people were dead -- it is easy he thought to die -- <br>These dead remained, but the living were all gone, <br>Gone with the wailing trumps of victory. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The dead men wore no raiment against the air, <br>Bartholomew's men had spoiled them where they fell; <br>In defeat the heroes' bodies were whitely bare, <br>The field was white like meads of asphodel. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not all were white; some gory and fabulous <br>Whom the sword had pierced and then the grey wolf eaten; <br>But the brother reasoned that heroes' flesh was thus. <br>Flesh fails, and the postured bones lie weather-beaten. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The lords of chivalry lay prone and shattered. <br>The gentle and the bodyguard of yeomen; <br>Bartholomew's stroke went home -- but little it mattered, <br>Bartholomew went to be stricken of other foemen. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beneath the blue ogive of the firmament <br>Was a dead warrior, clutching whose mighty knees <br>Was a leman, who with her flame had warmed his tent, <br>For him enduring all men's pleasantries. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Close by the sable stream that purged the plain <br>Lay the white stallion and his rider thrown, <br>The great beast had spilled there his little brain, <br>And the little groin of the knight was spilled by a stone. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The youth possessed him then of a crooked blade <br>Deep in the belly of a lugubrious wight; <br>He fingered it well, and it was cunningly made; <br>But strange apparatus was if for a Carmelite. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then he sat upon a hill and bowed his head <br>As under a riddle, and in deep surmise <br>So still that he likened himself unto those dead <br>Whom the kites of Heaven solicited with sweet cries.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Crowe+Ransom">John Crowe Ransom</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=419590" data-title="Necrological de John Crowe Ransom" data-description="The friar had said his paternosters duly 
And scourged his limbs, and afterwards would have slept; 
But with much riddling his head became unruly, 
He arose, from the quiet monastery he crept. 

Dawn lightened the place where the battle had been w..."></div>
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