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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=472328" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Good Time Going!</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">BRAVE singer of the coming time,<br>Sweet minstrel of the joyous present,<br>Crowned with the noblest wreath of rhyme,<br>The holly-leaf of Ayrshire's peasant,<br>Good by! Good by!--Our hearts and hands,<br>Our lips in honest Saxon phrases,<br>Cry, God be with him, till he stands<br>His feet among the English daisies!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'T is here we part;--for other eyes<br>The busy deck, the fluttering streamer,<br>The dripping arms that plunge and rise,<br>The waves in foam, the ship in tremor,<br>The kerchiefs waving from the pier,<br>The cloudy pillar gliding o'er him,<br>The deep blue desert, lone and drear,<br>With heaven above and home before him!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His home!--the Western giant smiles,<br>And twirls the spotty globe to find it;<br>This little speck the British Isles?<br>'T is but a freckle,--never mind it!<br>He laughs, and all his prairies roll,<br>Each gurgling cataract roars and chuckles,<br>And ridges stretched from pole to pole<br>Heave till they crack their iron knuckles!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But Memory blushes at the sneer,<br>And Honor turns with frown defiant,<br>And Freedom, leaning on her spear,<br>Laughs louder than the laughing giant<br>'An islet is a world,' she said,<br>'When glory with its dust has blended,<br>And Britain keeps her noble dead<br>Till earth and seas and skies are rended!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beneath each swinging forest-bough<br>Some arm as stout in death reposes,--<br>From wave-washed foot to heaven-kissed brow<br>Her valor's life-blood runs in roses;<br>Nay, let our brothers of the West<br>Write smiling in their florid pages,<br>One half her soil has walked the rest<br>In poets, heroes, martyrs, sages!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hugged in the clinging billow's clasp,<br>From sea-weed fringe to mountain heather,<br>The British oak with rooted grasp<br>Her slender handful holds together;--<br>With cliffs of white and bowers of green,<br>And Ocean narrowing to caress her,<br>And hills and threaded streams between,--<br>Our little mother isle, God bless her!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In earth's broad temple where we stand,<br>Fanned by the eastern gales that brought us,<br>We hold the missal in our hand,<br>Bright with the lines our Mother taught us.<br>Where'er its blazoned page betrays<br>The glistening links of gilded fetters,<br>Behold, the half-turned leaf displays<br>Her rubric stained in crimson letters!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Enough! To speed a parting friend<br>'T is vain alike to speak and listen;--<br>Yet stay,--these feeble accents blend<br>With rays of light from eyes that glisten.<br>Good by! once more,--and kindly tell<br>In words of peace the young world's story,--<br>And say, besides, we love too well<br>Our mothers' soil, our fathers' glory.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Oliver+Wendell+Holmes">Oliver Wendell Holmes</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=472328" data-title="A Good Time Going! de Oliver Wendell Holmes" data-description="BRAVE singer of the coming time,
Sweet minstrel of the joyous present,
Crowned with the noblest wreath of rhyme,
The holly-leaf of Ayrshire's peasant,
Good by! Good by!--Our hearts and hands,
Our lips in honest Saxon phrases,
Cry, God be with him,..."></div>
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