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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420884" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Within The Gate</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">L. M. C.<br>We sat together, last May-day, and talked<br>Of the dear friends who walked<br>Beside us, sharers of the hopes and fears<br>Of five and forty years,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Since first we met in Freedom's hope forlorn,<br>And heard her battle-horn<br>Sound through the valleys of the sleeping North,<br>Calling her children forth,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And youth pressed forward with hope-lighted eyes,<br>And age, with forecast wise<br>Of the long strife before the triumph won,<br>Girded his armor on.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sadly, ass name by name we called the roll,<br>We heard the dead-bells toll<br>For the unanswering many, and we knew<br>The living were the few.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And we, who waited our own call before<br>The inevitable door,<br>Listened and looked, as all have done, to win<br>Some token from within.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No sign we saw, we heard no voices call;<br>The impenetrable wall<br>Cast down its shadow, like an awful doubt,<br>On all who sat without.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of many a hint of life beyond the veil,<br>And many a ghostly tale<br>Wherewith the ages spanned the gulf between<br>The seen and the unseen,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Seeking from omen, trance, and dream to gain<br>Solace to doubtful pain,<br>And touch, with groping hands, the garment hem<br>Of truth sufficing them,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We talked; and, turning from the sore unrest<br>Of an all-baffling quest,<br>We thought of holy lives that from us passed<br>Hopeful unto the last,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As if they saw beyond the river of death,<br>Like Him of Nazareth,<br>The many mansions of the Eternal days<br>Lift up their gates of praise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, hushed to silence by a reverent awe,<br>Methought, O friend, I saw<br>In thy true life of word, and work, and thought<br>The proof of all we sought.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Did we not witness in the life of thee<br>Immortal prophecy?<br>And feel, when with thee, that thy footsteps trod<br>An everlasting road?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not for brief days thy generous sympathies,<br>Thy scorn of selfish ease;<br>Not for the poor prize of an earthly goal<br>Thy strong uplift of soul.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Than thine was never turned a fonder heart<br>To nature and to art<br>In fair-formed Hellas in her golden prime,<br>Thy Philothea's time.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet, loving beauty, thou couldst pass it by,<br>And for the poor deny<br>Thyself, and see thy fresh, sweet flower of fame<br>Wither in blight and blame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sharing His love who holds in His embrace<br>The lowliest of our race,<br>Sure the Divine economy must be<br>Conservative of thee!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For truth must live with truth, self-sacrifice<br>Seek out its great allies;<br>Good must find good by gravitation sure,<br>And love with love endure.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And so, since thou hast passed within the gate<br>Whereby awhile I wait,<br>I give blind grief and blinder sense the lie<br>Thou hast not lived to die!</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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We sat together, last May-day, and talked
Of the dear friends who walked
Beside us, sharers of the hopes and fears
Of five and forty years,

Since first we met in Freedom's hope forlorn,
And heard her battle-horn
Sound through the valleys..."></div>
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