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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420557" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Lexington</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">1775.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No Berserk thirst of blood had they,<br>No battle-joy was theirs, who set<br>Against the alien bayonet<br>Their homespun breasts in that old day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Their feet had trodden peaceful, ways;<br>They loved not strife, they dreaded pain;<br>They saw not, what to us is plain,<br>That God would make man's wrath his praise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No seers were they, but simple men;<br>Its vast results the future hid<br>The meaning of the work they did<br>Was strange and dark and doubtful then.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Swift as their summons came they left<br>The plough mid-furrow standing still,<br>The half-ground corn grist in the mill,<br>The spade in earth, the axe in cleft.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They went where duty seemed to call,<br>They scarcely asked the reason why;<br>They only knew they could but die,<br>And death was not the worst of all!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of man for man the sacrifice,<br>All that was theirs to give, they gave.<br>The flowers that blossomed from their grave<br>Have sown themselves beneath all skies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Their death-shot shook the feudal tower,<br>And shattered slavery's chain as well;<br>On the sky's dome, as on a bell,<br>Its echo struck the world's great hour.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That fateful echo is not dumb<br>The nations listening to its sound<br>Wait, from a century's vantage-ground,<br>The holier triumphs yet to come,--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The bridal time of Law and Love,<br>The gladness of the world's release,<br>When, war-sick, at the feet of Peace<br>The hawk shall nestle with the dove!--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The golden age of brotherhood<br>Unknown to other rivalries<br>Than of the mild humanities,<br>And gracious interchange of good,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When closer strand shall lean to strand,<br>Till meet, beneath saluting flags,<br>The eagle of our mountain-crags,<br>The lion of our Motherland!</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=420557" data-title="Lexington de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="1775.

No Berserk thirst of blood had they,
No battle-joy was theirs, who set
Against the alien bayonet
Their homespun breasts in that old day.

Their feet had trodden peaceful, ways;
They loved not strife, they dreaded pain;
They saw not, what to..."></div>
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