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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=472418" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>For The Burns Centennial Celebration</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">JANUARY 25, 1859</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His birthday.--Nay, we need not speak<br>The name each heart is beating,--<br>Each glistening eye and flushing cheek<br>In light and flame repeating!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We come in one tumultuous tide,--<br>One surge of wild emotion,--<br>As crowding through the Frith of Clyde<br>Rolls in the Western Ocean;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As when yon cloudless, quartered moon<br>Hangs o'er each storied river,<br>The swelling breasts of Ayr and Doon<br>With sea green wavelets quiver.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The century shrivels like a scroll,--<br>The past becomes the present,--<br>And face to face, and soul to soul,<br>We greet the monarch-peasant.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">While Shenstone strained in feeble flights<br>With Corydon and Phillis,--<br>While Wolfe was climbing Abraham's heights<br>To snatch the Bourbon lilies,--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who heard the wailing infant's cry,<br>The babe beneath the sheeliug,<br>Whose song to-night in every sky<br>Will shake earth's starry ceiling,--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Whose passion-breathing voice ascends<br>And floats like incense o'er us,<br>Whose ringing lay of friendship blends<br>With labor's anvil chorus?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We love him, not for sweetest song,<br>Though never tone so tender;<br>We love him, even in his wrong,--<br>His wasteful self-surrender.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We praise him, not for gifts divine,--<br>His Muse was born of woman,--<br>His manhood breathes in every line,--<br>Was ever heart more human?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We love him, praise him, just for this<br>In every form and feature,<br>Through wealth and want, through woe and bliss,<br>He saw his fellow-creature!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No soul could sink beneath his love,--<br>Not even angel blasted;<br>No mortal power could soar above<br>The pride that all outlasted!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ay! Heaven had set one living man<br>Beyond the pedant's tether,--<br>His virtues, frailties, HE may scan,<br>Who weighs them all together!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I fling my pebble on the cairn<br>Of him, though dead, undying;<br>Sweet Nature's nursling, bonniest bairn<br>Beneath her daisies lying.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The waning suns, the wasting globe,<br>Shall spare the minstrel's story,--<br>The centuries weave his purple robe,<br>The mountain-mist of 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=472418" data-title="For The Burns Centennial Celebration de Oliver Wendell Holmes" data-description="JANUARY 25, 1859

His birthday.--Nay, we need not speak
The name each heart is beating,--
Each glistening eye and flushing cheek
In light and flame repeating!

We come in one tumultuous tide,--
One surge of wild emotion,--
As crowding through the ..."></div>
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