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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420819" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Wife Of Manoah To Her Husband</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Against the sunset's glowing wall<br>The city towers rise black and tall,<br>Where Zorah, on its rocky height,<br>Stands like an armed man in the light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Down Eshtaol's vales of ripened grain<br>Falls like a cloud the night amain,<br>And up the hillsides climbing slow<br>The barley reapers homeward go.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Look, dearest! how our fair child's head<br>The sunset light hath hallowed,<br>Where at this olive's foot he lies,<br>Uplooking to the tranquil skies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, while beneath the fervent heat<br>Thy sickle swept the bearded wheat,<br>I've watched, with mingled joy and dread,<br>Our child upon his grassy bed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Joy, which the mother feels alone<br>Whose morning hope like mine had flown,<br>When to her bosom, over-blessed,<br>A dearer life than hers is pressed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dread, for the future dark and still,<br>Which shapes our dear one to its will;<br>Forever in his large calm eyes,<br>I read a tale of sacrifice.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The same foreboding awe I felt<br>When at the altar's side we knelt,<br>And he, who as a pilgrim came,<br>Rose, winged and glorious, through the flame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I slept not, though the wild bees made<br>A dreamlike murmuring in the shade,<br>And on me the warm-fingered hours<br>Pressed with the drowsy smell of flowers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Before me, in a vision, rose<br>The hosts of Israel's scornful foes,--<br>Rank over rank, helm, shield, and spear,<br>Glittered in noon's hot atmosphere.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I heard their boast, and bitter word,<br>Their mockery of the Hebrew's Lord,<br>I saw their hands His ark assail,<br>Their feet profane His holy veil.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No angel down the blue space spoke,<br>No thunder from the still sky broke;<br>But in their midst, in power and awe,<br>Like God's waked wrath, our child I saw!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A child no more!--harsh-browed and strong,<br>He towered a giant in the throng,<br>And down his shoulders, broad and bare,<br>Swept the black terror of his hair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He raised his arm--he smote amain;<br>As round the reaper falls the grain,<br>So the dark host around him fell,<br>So sank the foes of Israel!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Again I looked. In sunlight shone<br>The towers and domes of Askelon;<br>Priest, warrior, slave, a mighty crowd<br>Within her idol temple bowed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet one knelt not; stark, gaunt, and blind,<br>His arms the massive pillars twined,--<br>An eyeless captive, strong with hate,<br>He stood there like an evil Fate.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The red shrines smoked,--the trumpets pealed<br>He stooped,--the giant columns reeled;<br>Reeled tower and fane, sank arch and wall,<br>And the thick dust-cloud closed o'er all!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Above the shriek, the crash, the groan<br>Of the fallen pride of Askelon,<br>I heard, sheer down the echoing sky,<br>A voice as of an angel cry,--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The voice of him, who at our side<br>Sat through the golden eventide;<br>Of him who, on thy altar's blaze,<br>Rose fire-winged, with his song of praise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Rejoice o'er Israel's broken chain,<br>Gray mother of the mighty slain!<br>Rejoice!' it cried, 'he vanquisheth!<br>The strong in life is strong in death!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'To him shall Zorah's daughters raise<br>Through coming years their hymns of praise,<br>And gray old men at evening tell<br>Of all be wrought for Israel.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'And they who sing and they who hear<br>Alike shall hold thy memory dear,<br>And pour their blessings on thy head,<br>O mother of the mighty dead!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It ceased; and though a sound I heard<br>As if great wings the still air stirred,<br>I only saw the barley sheaves<br>And hills half hid by olive leaves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I bowed my face, in awe and fear,<br>On the dear child who slumbered near;<br>'With me, as with my only son,<br>O God,' I said, 'Thy will be done!'</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=420819" data-title="The Wife Of Manoah To Her Husband de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="Against the sunset's glowing wall
The city towers rise black and tall,
Where Zorah, on its rocky height,
Stands like an armed man in the light.

Down Eshtaol's vales of ripened grain
Falls like a cloud the night amain,
And up the hillsides climbin..."></div>
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