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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=450398" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Unrecorded</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I like to think of the many words <br>The Master in his early days <br>Must have spoken to them of Nazareth<br>Words not freighted with life and death, <br>Piercing through soul and heart like swords. <br>But gracious greeting and grateful phrase, <br>The simple speech <br>That plain folk utter each to each. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ere over him too darkly lay <br>The prophet shadow of Calvary, <br>I think he talked in very truth <br>With the innocent gayety of youth, <br>Laughing upon some festal day, <br>Gently, with sinless boyhood's glee. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I think if he had ever said <br>To a mother apart, <br>Cradling her baby's shining head, <br>&quot;Thy man-child is strong of limb and heart,&quot; <br>She must have been from that gladsome day <br>Thrilled with enduring pride alway, <br>Fearless of any future dread, <br>Knowing the son upon her knee <br>Worthy her pain and love would be. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or if by the dusty wayside well, <br>From the glare and heat <br>Of the burning noon a wayfarer sought <br>A moment's rest where the palm shade fell, <br>And he said to him, &quot;The day is hot, <br>And your road is rough for wandering feet,&quot;<br>Then I think on his way the pilgrim went <br>As one who has shared in a sacrament, <br>Feeling no longer on him press <br>The burden of his weariness. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">If he said to a maid, &quot;The sunset lies <br>Redly on Nazareth hills to-night,&quot; <br>Each sunset of her life would bring <br>A benedictive memory <br>Of his haunting face and holy eyes; <br>Or if to a bridegroom thus in spring, <br>&quot;The wife of thy youth is fair and wise,&quot; <br>So would she ever have seemed to be <br>In her husband's sight. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">If he but bade a passing guest <br>His meal to share, <br>Would not the one so honored deem <br>Himself of all most highly blessed, <br>The food he ate heaven's manna rare?<br>Or when he to a friend addressed <br>A word of thanks for service done, <br>Or homely, familiar favor, none <br>Of richer recompense could dream. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">No evangelist's golden pen <br>Wrote them for us<br>The words of the Master to those he might meet <br>By the carpenter's bench or in Nazareth street<br>But in them I think there well might be<br>It is surely sweet to fancy thus<br>All of the benediction for men <br>All of the tender humanity, <br>That leaven the words of his later age <br>On the holy page.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Lucy+Maud+Montgomery">Lucy Maud Montgomery</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=450398" data-title="Unrecorded de Lucy Maud Montgomery" data-description="I like to think of the many words 
The Master in his early days 
Must have spoken to them of Nazareth
Words not freighted with life and death, 
Piercing through soul and heart like swords. 
But gracious greeting and grateful phrase, 
The simple ..."></div>
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