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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=448083" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Frank Little At Calvary</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He walked under the shadow of the Hill<br>Where men are fed into the fires<br>And walled apart…<br>Unarmed and alone,<br>He summoned his mates from the pit's mouth<br>Where tools rested on the floors<br>And great cranes swung<br>Unemptied, on the iron girders.<br>And they, who were the Lords of the Hill,<br>Were seized with a great fear,<br>When they heard out of the silence of wheels<br>The answer ringing<br>In endless reverberations<br>Under the mountain…</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So they covered up their faces<br>And crept upon him as he slept…<br>Out of eye-holes in black cloth<br>They looked upon him who had flung<br>Between them and their ancient prey<br>The frail barricade of his life…<br>And when night - that has connived at so much - <br>Was heavy with the unborn day,<br>They haled him from his bed…</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who might know of that wild ride?<br>Only the bleak Hill - <br>The red Hill, vigilant,<br>Like a blood-shot eye<br>In the black mask of night - <br>Dared watch them as they raced<br>By each blind-folded street<br>Godiva might have ridden down…<br>But when they stopped beside the Place,<br>I know he turned his face<br>Wistfully to the accessory night…</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And when he saw - against the sky,<br>Sagged like a silken net<br>Under its load of stars - <br>The black bridge poised<br>Like a gigantic spider motionless…<br>I know there was a silence in his heart,<br>As of a frozen sea,<br>Where some half lifted arm, mid-way<br>Wavers, and drops heavily…</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I know he waved to life,<br>And that life signaled back, transcending space,<br>To each high-powered sense,<br>So that he missed no gesture of the wind<br>Drawing the shut leaves close…<br>So that he saw the light on comrades' faces<br>Of camp fires out of sight…<br>And the savor of meat and bread<br>Blew in his nostrils… and the breath<br>Of unrailed spaces<br>Where shut wild clover smelled as sweet<br>As a virgin in her bed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I know he looked once at America,<br>Quiescent, with her great flanks on the globe,<br>And once at the skies whirling above him…<br>Then all that he had spoken against<br>And struck against and thrust against<br>Over the frail barricade of his life<br>Rushed between him and the stars…</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Life thunders on…<br>Over the black bridge<br>The line of lighted cars<br>Creeps like a monstrous serpent<br>Spooring gold…</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Watchman, what of the track?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Night… silence… stars…<br>All's Well!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Light…<br>(Breaking mists…<br>Hills gliding like hands out of a slipping hold…)<br>Light over the pit mouths,<br>Streaming in tenuous rays down the black gullets of the Hill…<br>(The copper, insensate, sleeping in the buried lode.)<br>Light…<br>Forcing the clogged windows of arsenals…<br>Probing with long sentient fingers in the copper chips…<br>Gleaming metallic and cold<br>In numberless slivers of steel…<br>Light over the trestles and the iron clips<br>Of the black bridge - poised like a gigantic spider motionless - <br>Sweet inquisition of light, like a child's wonder…<br>Intrusive, innocently staring light<br>That nothing appals…</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Light in the slow fumbling summer leaves,<br>Cooing and calling<br>All winged and avid things<br>Waking the early flies, keen to the scent…<br>Green-jeweled iridescent flies<br>Unerringly steering - <br>Swarming over the blackened lips,<br>The young day sprays with indiscriminate gold…</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Watchman, what of the Hill?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wheels turn;<br>The laden cars<br>Go rumbling to the mill,<br>And Labor walks beside the mules…<br>All's Well with the Hill!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Lola+Ridge">Lola Ridge</a><div class=q>
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He walked under the shadow of the Hill
Where men are fed into the fires
And walled apart…
Unarmed and alone,
He summoned his mates from the pit's mouth
Where tools rested on the floors
And great cranes swung
Unemptied, on the iron girders.
An..."></div>
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