Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420598" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>On The Big Horn</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">THE years are but half a score,<br>And the war-whoop sounds no more<br>With the blast of bugles, where<br>Straight into a slaughter pen,<br>With his doomed three hundred men,<br>Rode the chief with the yellow hair.<br>O Hampton, down by the sea!<br>What voice is beseeching thee<br>For the scholar's lowliest place?<br>Can. this be the voice of him<br>Who fought on the Big Horn's rim?<br>Can this be Rain-in-the-Face?<br>His war-paint is washed away,<br>Hls hands have forgotten to slay;<br>He seeks for himself and his race<br>The arts of peace and the lore<br>That give to the skilled hand more<br>Than the spoils of war and chase.<br>O chief of the Christ-like school!<br>Can the zeal of thy heart grow cool<br>When the victor scarred with fight<br>Like a child for thy guidance craves,<br>And the faces of hunters and braves<br>Are turning to thee for light?<br>The hatchet lies overgrown<br>With grass by the Yellowstone,<br>Wind River and Paw of Bear;<br>And, in sign that foes are friends,<br>Each lodge like a peace-pipe sends<br>Its smoke in the quiet air.<br>The hands that have done the wrong<br>To right the wronged are strong,<br>And the voice of a nation saith:<br>'Enough of the war of swords,<br>Enough of the lying words<br>And shame of a broken faith!'<br>The hills that have watched afar<br>The valleys ablaze with war<br>Shall look on the tasselled corn;<br>And the dust of the grinded grain,<br>Instead of the blood of the slain,<br>Shall sprinkle thy banks, Big Horn!<br>The Ute and the wandering Crow<br>Shall know as the white men know,<br>And fare as the white men fare;<br>The pale and the red shall be brothers,<br>One's rights shall be as another's,<br>Home, School, and House of Prayer!<br>O mountains that climb to snow,<br>O river winding below,<br>Through meadows by war once trod,<br>O wild, waste lands that await<br>The harvest exceeding great,<br>Break forth into praise of God!</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>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<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=420598" data-title="On The Big Horn de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="THE years are but half a score,
And the war-whoop sounds no more
With the blast of bugles, where
Straight into a slaughter pen,
With his doomed three hundred men,
Rode the chief with the yellow hair.
O Hampton, down by the sea!
What voice is besee..."></div>
</div>
</div>