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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420861" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To The Memory Of Charles B. Storrs</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou hast fallen in thine armor,<br>Thou martyr of the Lord<br>With thy last breath crying 'Onward!'<br>And thy hand upon the sword.<br>The haughty heart derideth,<br>And the sinful lip reviles,<br>But the blessing of the perishing<br>Around thy pillow smiles!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When to our cup of trembling<br>The added drop is given,<br>And the long-suspended thunder<br>Falls terribly from Heaven,--<br>When a new and fearful freedom<br>Is proffered of the Lord<br>To the slow-consuming Famine,<br>The Pestilence and Sword!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When the refuges of Falsehood<br>Shall be swept away in wrath,<br>And the temple shall be shaken,<br>With its idol, to the earth,<br>Shall not thy words of warning<br>Be all remembered then?<br>And thy now unheeded message<br>Burn in the hearts of men?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oppression's hand may scatter<br>Its nettles on thy tomb,<br>And even Christian bosoms<br>Deny thy memory room;<br>For lying lips shall torture<br>Thy mercy into crime,<br>And the slanderer shall flourish<br>As the bay-tree for a time.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But where the south-wind lingers<br>On Carolina's pines,<br>Or falls the careless sunbeam<br>Down Georgia's golden mines;<br>Where now beneath his burthen<br>The toiling slave is driven;<br>Where now a tyrant's mockery<br>Is offered unto Heaven;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where Mammon hath its altars<br>Wet o'er with human blood,<br>And pride and lust debases<br>The workmanship of God,--<br>There shall thy praise be spoken,<br>Redeemed from Falsehood's ban,<br>When the fetters shall be broken,<br>And the slave shall be a man!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Joy to thy spirit, brother!<br>A thousand hearts are warm,<br>A thousand kindred bosoms<br>Are baring to the storm.<br>What though red-handed Violence<br>With secret Fraud combine?<br>The wall of fire is round us,<br>Our Present Help was thine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lo, the waking up of nations,<br>From Slavery's fatal sleep;<br>The murmur of a Universe,<br>Deep calling unto Deep!<br>Joy to thy spirit, brother!<br>On every wind of heaven<br>The onward cheer and summons<br>Of Freedom's voice is given!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Glory to God forever!<br>Beyond the despot's will<br>The soul of Freedom liveth<br>Imperishable still.<br>The words which thou hast uttered<br>Are of that soul a part,<br>And the good seed thou hast scattered<br>Is springing from the heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the evil days before us,<br>And the trials yet to come,<br>In the shadow of the prison,<br>Or the cruel martyrdom,--<br>We will think of thee, O brother!<br>And thy sainted name shall be<br>In the blessing of the captive,<br>And the anthem of the free.</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=420861" data-title="To The Memory Of Charles B. Storrs de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="Thou hast fallen in thine armor,
Thou martyr of the Lord
With thy last breath crying 'Onward!'
And thy hand upon the sword.
The haughty heart derideth,
And the sinful lip reviles,
But the blessing of the perishing
Around thy pillow smiles!

When t..."></div>
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