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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420433" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>After Election</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">THE day's sharp strife is ended now,<br>Our work is done, God knoweth how!<br>As on the thronged, unrestful town<br>The patience of the moon looks down,<br>I wait to hear, beside the wire,<br>The voices of its tongues of fire.<br>Slow, doubtful, faint,they seem at first:<br>Be strong, my heart, to know the worst!<br>Hark! there the Alleghanies spoke;<br>That sound from lake and prairie broke,<br>That sunset-gun of triumph rent<br>The silence of a continent!<br>That signal from Nebraska sprung,<br>This, from Nevada's mountain tongue!<br>Is that thy answer, strong and free,<br>O loyal heart of Tennessee?<br>What strange, glad voice is that which calls<br>From Wagner's grave and Sumter's walls?<br>From Mississippi's fountain-head<br>A sound as of the hisoh's tread!<br>There rustled freedom's Charter Oak!<br>In that wild burst the Ozarks spoke!<br>Cheer answers cheer from rise to set<br>Of sun. We have a country yet!<br>The praise, O God, be thine alone!<br>Thou givest not for bread a stone;<br>Thou hast not led us through the night<br>To blind us with returning light;<br>Not through the furnace have we passed,<br>To perish at its mouth at last.<br>O night of peace, thy flight restrain!<br>November's moon, be slow to wane!<br>Shine on the freedman's cabin floor,<br>On brows of prayer a blessing pour;<br>And give, with full assurance blest,<br>The weary heart of Freedom rest!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Greenleaf+Whittier">John Greenleaf Whittier</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=420433" data-title="After Election de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="THE day's sharp strife is ended now,
Our work is done, God knoweth how!
As on the thronged, unrestful town
The patience of the moon looks down,
I wait to hear, beside the wire,
The voices of its tongues of fire.
Slow, doubtful, faint,they seem at ..."></div>
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