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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420554" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Le Marais Du Cygne</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A BLUSH as of roses<br>Where rose never grew!<br>Great drops on the bunch-grass,<br>But not of the dew!<br>A taint in the sweet air<br>For wild bees to shun!<br>A stain that shall never<br>Bleach out in the sun!<br>Back, steed of the prairies!<br>Sweet song-bird, fly back!<br>Wheel hither, bald vulture!<br>Gray wolf, call thy pack!<br>The foul human vultures<br>Have feasted and fled;<br>The wolves of the Border<br>Have crept from the dead.<br>From the hearths of their cabins,<br>The fields of their corn,<br>Unwarned and unweaponed,<br>The victims were torn, —<br>By the whirlwind of murder<br>Swooped up and swept on<br>To the low, reedy fen-lands,<br>The Marsh of the Swan.<br>With a vain plea for mercy<br>No stout knee was crooked;<br>In the mouths of the rifles<br>Right manly they looked.<br>How paled the May sunshine,<br>O Marais du Cygne!<br>On death for the strong life,<br>On red grass for green!<br>In the homes of their rearing,<br>Yet warm with their lives,<br>Ye wait the dead only,<br>Poor children and wives!<br>Put out the red forge-fire,<br>The smith shall not come;<br>Unyoke the brown oxen,<br>The ploughman lies dumb.<br>Wind slow from the Swan's Marsh,<br>O dreary death-train,<br>With pressed lips as bloodless<br>As lips of the slain!<br>Kiss down the young eyelids,<br>Smooth down the gray hairs;<br>Let tears quench the curses<br>That burn through your prayers.<br>Strong man of the prairies,<br>Mourn bitter and wild!<br>Wail, desolate woman!<br>Weep, fatherless child!<br>But the grain of God springs up<br>From ashes beneath,<br>And the crown of his harvest<br>Is life out of death.<br>Not in vain on the dial<br>The shade moves along,<br>To point the great contrasts<br>Of right and of wrong:<br>Free homes and free altars,<br>Free prairie and flood, —<br>The reeds of the Swan's Marsh,<br>Whose bloom is of blood!<br>On the lintels of Kansas<br>That blood shall not dry;<br>Henceforth the Bad Angel<br>Shall harmless go by;<br>Henceforth to the sunset,<br>Unchecked on her way,<br>Shall Liberty follow<br>The march of the day.</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=420554" data-title="Le Marais Du Cygne de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="A BLUSH as of roses
Where rose never grew!
Great drops on the bunch-grass,
But not of the dew!
A taint in the sweet air
For wild bees to shun!
A stain that shall never
Bleach out in the sun!
Back, steed of the prairies!
Sweet song-bird, fly back!
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