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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420484" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ego</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM OF A FRIEND.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On page of thine I cannot trace<br>The cold and heartless commonplace,<br>A statue's fixed and marble grace.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For ever as these lines I penned,<br>Still with the thought of thee will blend<br>That of some loved and common friend,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who in life's desert track has made<br>His pilgrim tent with mine, or strayed<br>Beneath the same remembered shade.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And hence my pen unfettered moves<br>In freedom which the heart approves,<br>The negligence which friendship loves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And wilt thou prize my poor gift less<br>For simple air and rustic dress,<br>And sign of haste and carelessness?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, more than specious counterfeit<br>Of sentiment or studied wit,<br>A heart like thine should value it.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet half I fear my gift will be<br>Unto thy book, if not to thee,<br>Of more than doubtful courtesy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A banished name from Fashion's sphere,<br>A lay unheard of Beauty's ear,<br>Forbid, disowned,--what do they here?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Upon my ear not all in vain<br>Came the sad captive's clanking chain,<br>The groaning from his bed of pain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And sadder still, I saw the woe<br>Which only wounded spirits know<br>When Pride's strong footsteps o'er them go.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Spurned not alone in walks abroad,<br>But from the temples of the Lord<br>Thrust out apart, like things abhorred.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Deep as I felt, and stern and strong,<br>In words which Prudence smothered long,<br>My soul spoke out against the wrong;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not mine alone the task to speak<br>Of comfort to the poor and weak,<br>And dry the tear on Sorrow's cheek;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But, mingled in the conflict warm,<br>To pour the fiery breath of storm<br>Through the harsh trumpet of Reform;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To brave Opinion's settled frown,<br>From ermined robe and saintly gown,<br>While wrestling reverenced Error down.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Founts gushed beside my pilgrim way,<br>Cool shadows on the greensward lay,<br>Flowers swung upon the bending spray.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, broad and bright, on either hand,<br>Stretched the green slopes of Fairy-land,<br>With Hope's eternal sunbow spanned;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Whence voices called me like the flow,<br>Which on the listener's ear will grow,<br>Of forest streamlets soft and low.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And gentle eyes, which still retain<br>Their picture on the heart and brain,<br>Smiled, beckoning from that path of pain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In vain! nor dream, nor rest, nor pause<br>Remain for him who round him draws<br>The battered mail of Freedom's cause.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">From youthful hopes, from each green spot<br>Of young Romance, and gentle Thought,<br>Where storm and tumult enter not;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">From each fair altar, where belong<br>The offerings Love requires of Song<br>In homage to her bright-eyed throng;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With soul and strength, with heart and hand,<br>I turned to Freedom's struggling band,<br>To the sad Helots of our land.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What marvel then that Fame should turn<br>Her notes of praise to those of scorn;<br>Her gifts reclaimed, her smiles withdrawn?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What matters it? a few years more,<br>Life's surge so restless heretofore<br>Shall break upon the unknown shore!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In that far land shall disappear<br>The shadows which we follow here,<br>The mist-wreaths of our atmosphere!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Before no work of mortal hand,<br>Of human will or strength expand<br>The pearl gates of the Better Land;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alone in that great love which gave<br>Life to the sleeper of the grave,<br>Resteth the power to seek and save.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet, if the spirit gazing through<br>The vista of the past can view<br>One deed to Heaven and virtue true;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If through the wreck of wasted powers,<br>Of garlands wreathed from Folly's bowers,<br>Of idle aims and misspent hours,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The eye can note one sacred spot<br>By Pride and Self profaned not,<br>A green place in the waste of thought,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where deed or word hath rendered less<br>The sum of human wretchedness,<br>And Gratitude looks forth to bless;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The simple burst of tenderest feeling<br>From sad hearts worn by evil-dealing,<br>For blessing on the hand of healing;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Better than Glory's pomp will be<br>That green and blessed spot to me,<br>A palm-shade in Eternity!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Something of Time which may invite<br>The purified and spiritual sight<br>To rest on with a calm delight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And when the summer winds shall sweep<br>With their light wings my place of sleep,<br>And mosses round my headstone creep;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If still, as Freedom's rallying sign,<br>Upon the young heart's altars shine<br>The very fires they caught from mine;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If words my lips once uttered still,<br>In the calm faith and steadfast will<br>Of other hearts, their work fulfil;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Perchance with joy the soul may learn<br>These tokens, and its eye discern<br>The fires which on those altars burn;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A marvellous joy that even then,<br>The spirit hath its life again,<br>In the strong hearts of mortal men.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Take, lady, then, the gift I bring,<br>No gay and graceful offering,<br>No flower-smile of the laughing spring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Midst the green buds of Youth's fresh May,<br>With Fancy's leaf-enwoven bay,<br>My sad and sombre gift I lay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And if it deepens in thy mind<br>A sense of suffering human-kind,--<br>The outcast and the spirit-blind;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oppressed and spoiled on every side,<br>By Prejudice, and Scorn, and Pride,<br>Life's common courtesies denied;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sad mothers mourning o'er their trust,<br>Children by want and misery nursed,<br>Tasting life's bitter cup at first;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If to their strong appeals which come<br>From fireless hearth, and crowded room,<br>And the close alley's noisome gloom,--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though dark the hands upraised to thee<br>In mute beseeching agony,<br>Thou lend'st thy woman's sympathy;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not vainly on thy gentle shrine,<br>Where Love, and Mirth, and Friendship twine<br>Their varied gifts, I offer mine.</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=420484" data-title="Ego de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM OF A FRIEND.

On page of thine I cannot trace
The cold and heartless commonplace,
A statue's fixed and marble grace.

For ever as these lines I penned,
Still with the thought of thee will blend
That of some loved and common fr..."></div>
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