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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420693" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Female Martyr</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'BRING out your dead!' The midnight street<br>Heard and gave back the hoarse, low call;<br>Harsh fell the tread of hasty feet,<br>Glanced through the dark the coarse white sheet,<br>Her coffin and her pall.<br>'What--only one!' the brutal hack-man said,<br>As, with an oath, he spurned away the dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How sunk the inmost hearts of all,<br>As rolled that dead-cart slowly by,<br>With creaking wheel and harsh hoof-fall!<br>The dying turned him to the wall,<br>To hear it and to die!<br>Onward it rolled; while oft its driver stayed,<br>And hoarsely clamored, 'Ho! bring out your dead.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It paused beside the burial-place;<br>'Toss in your load!' and it was done.<br>With quick hand and averted face,<br>Hastily to the grave's embrace<br>They cast them, one by one,<br>Stranger and friend, the evil and the just,<br>Together trodden in the churchyard dust.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And thou, young martyr! thou wast there;<br>No white-robed sisters round thee trod,<br>Nor holy hymn, nor funeral prayer<br>Rose through the damp and noisome air,<br>Giving thee to thy God;<br>Nor flower, nor cross, nor hallowed taper gave<br>Grace to the dead, and beauty to the grave!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet, gentle sufferer! there shall be,<br>In every heart of kindly feeling,<br>A rite as holy paid to thee<br>As if beneath the convent-tree<br>Thy sisterhood were kneeling,<br>At vesper hours, like sorrowing angels, keeping<br>Their tearful watch around thy place of sleeping.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For thou wast one in whom the light<br>Of Heaven's own love was kindled well;<br>Enduring with a martyr's might,<br>Through weary day and wakeful night,<br>Far more than words may tell<br>Gentle, and meek, and lowly, and unknown,<br>Thy mercies measured by thy God alone!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where manly hearts were failing, where<br>The throngful street grew foul with death,<br>O high-souled martyr! thou wast there,<br>Inhaling, from the loathsome air,<br>Poison with every breath.<br>Yet shrinking not from offices of dread<br>For the wrung dying, and the unconscious dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, where the sickly taper shed<br>Its light through vapors, damp, confined,<br>Hushed as a seraph's fell thy tread,<br>A new Electra by the bed<br>Of suffering human-kind!<br>Pointing the spirit, in its dark dismay,<br>To that pure hope which fadeth not away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Innocent teacher of the high<br>And holy mysteries of Heaven!<br>How turned to thee each glazing eye,<br>In mute and awful sympathy,<br>As thy low prayers were given;<br>And the o'er-hovering Spoiler wore, the while,<br>An angel's features, a deliverer's smile!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A blessed task! and worthy one<br>Who, turning from the world, as thou,<br>Before life's pathway had begun<br>To leave its spring-time flower and sun,<br>Had sealed her early vow;<br>Giving to God her beauty and her youth,<br>Her pure affections and her guileless truth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Earth may not claim thee. Nothing here<br>Could be for thee a meet reward;<br>Thine is a treasure far more dear<br>Eye hath not seen it, nor the ear<br>Of living mortal heard<br>The joys prepared, the promised bliss above,<br>The holy presence of Eternal Love!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sleep on in peace. The earth has not<br>A nobler name than thine shall be.<br>The deeds by martial manhood wrought,<br>The lofty energies of thought,<br>The fire of poesy,<br>These have but frail and fading honors; thine<br>Shall Time unto Eternity consign.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yea, and when thrones shall crumble down,<br>And human pride and grandeur fall,<br>The herald's line of long renown,<br>The mitre and the kingly crown,--<br>Perishing glories all!<br>The pure devotion of thy generous heart<br>Shall live in Heaven, of which it was a part.</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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Heard and gave back the hoarse, low call;
Harsh fell the tread of hasty feet,
Glanced through the dark the coarse white sheet,
Her coffin and her pall.
'What--only one!' the brutal hack-man said,
As, with..."></div>
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