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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=472542" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Broken Circle</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I STOOD On Sarum's treeless plain,<br>The waste that careless Nature owns;<br>Lone tenants of her bleak domain,<br>Loomed huge and gray the Druid stones.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Upheaved in many a billowy mound<br>The sea-like, naked turf arose,<br>Where wandering flocks went nibbling round<br>The mingled graves of friends and foes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Briton, Roman, Saxon, Dane,<br>This windy desert roamed in turn;<br>Unmoved these mighty blocks remain<br>Whose story none that lives may learn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Erect, half buried, slant or prone,<br>These awful listeners, blind and dumb,<br>Hear the strange tongues of tribes unknown,<br>As wave on wave they go and come.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Who are you, giants, whence and why?'<br>I stand and ask in blank amaze;<br>My soul accepts their mute reply<br>'A mystery, as are you that gaze.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'A silent Orpheus wrought the charm<br>From riven rocks their spoils to bring;<br>A nameless Titan lent his arm<br>To range us in our magic ring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'But Time with still and stealthy stride,<br>That climbs and treads and levels all,<br>That bids the loosening keystone slide,<br>And topples down the crumbling wall,--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Time, that unbuilds the quarried past,<br>Leans on these wrecks that press the sod;<br>They slant, they stoop, they fall at last,<br>And strew the turf their priests have trod.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'No more our altar's wreath of smoke<br>Floats up with morning's fragrant dew;<br>The fires are dead, the ring is broke,<br>Where stood the many stand the few.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My thoughts had wandered far away,<br>Borne off on Memory's outspread wing,<br>To where in deepening twilight lay<br>The wrecks of friendship's broken ring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah me! of all our goodly train<br>How few will find our banquet hall!<br>Yet why with coward lips complain<br>That this must lean, and that must fall?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cold is the Druid's altar-stone,<br>Its vanished flame no more returns;<br>But ours no chilling damp has known,--<br>Unchanged, unchanging, still it burns.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So let our broken circle stand<br>A wreck, a remnant, yet the same,<br>While one last, loving, faithful hand<br>Still lives to feed its altar-flame!</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=472542" data-title="The Broken Circle de Oliver Wendell Holmes" data-description="I STOOD On Sarum's treeless plain,
The waste that careless Nature owns;
Lone tenants of her bleak domain,
Loomed huge and gray the Druid stones.

Upheaved in many a billowy mound
The sea-like, naked turf arose,
Where wandering flocks went nibbling..."></div>
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