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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=447609" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Record</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">HE sleeps, his head upon his sword,<br>His soldier's cloak a shroud;<br>His church-yard is the open field,--<br>Three times it has been plough'd:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The first time that the wheat sprung up<br>'Twas black as if with blood,<br>The meanest beggar turn'd away<br>From the unholy food.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The third year, and the grain grew fair,<br>As it was wont to wave;<br>None would have thought that golden corn<br>Was growing on the grave.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His lot was but a peasant's lot,<br>His name a peasant's name,<br>Not his the place of death that turns<br>Into a place of fame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He fell as other thousands do,<br>Trampled down where they fall,<br>While on a single name is heap'd<br>The glory gain'd by all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet even he whose common grave<br>Lies in the open fields,<br>Died not without a thought of all<br>The joy that glory yields.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That small white church in his own land,<br>The lime trees almost hide,<br>Bears on the walls the names of those<br>Who for their country died.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His name is written on those walls,<br>His mother read it there,<br>With pride,--oh! no, there could not be<br>Pride in the widow's prayer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And many a stranger who shall mark<br>That peasant roll of fame,<br>Will think on prouder ones, yet say<br>This was a hero's name.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Letitia+Elizabeth+Landon">Letitia Elizabeth Landon</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=447609" data-title="The Record de Letitia Elizabeth Landon" data-description="HE sleeps, his head upon his sword,
His soldier's cloak a shroud;
His church-yard is the open field,--
Three times it has been plough'd:

The first time that the wheat sprung up
'Twas black as if with blood,
The meanest beggar turn'd away
From the..."></div>
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