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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=480835" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Babylon</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">If you could bring her glories back! <br>You gentle sirs who sift the dust <br>And burrow in the mould and must <br>Of Babylon for bric-a-brac; <br>Who catalogue and pigeon-hole <br>The faded splendours of her soul <br>And put her greatness under glass - <br>If you could bring her past to pass! <br>If you could bring her dead to life! <br>The soldier lad; the market wife; <br>Madam buying fowls from her; <br>Tip, the butcher's bandy cur; <br>Workmen carting bricks and clay; <br>Babel passing to and fro <br>On the business of a day <br>Gone three thousand years ago - <br>That you cannot; then be done, <br>Put the goblet down again, <br>Let the broken arch remain, <br>Leave the dead men's dust alone - <br>Is it nothing how she lies, <br>This old mother of you all, <br>You great cities proud and tall <br>Towering to a hundred skies <br>Round a world she never knew, <br>Is it nothing, this, to you? <br>Must the ghoulish work go on <br>Till her very floors are gone? <br>While there's still a brick to save <br>Drive these people from her grave! <br>The Jewish seer when he cried <br>Woe to Babel's lust and pride <br>Saw the foxes at her gates; <br>Once again the wild thing waits. <br>Then leave her in her last decay <br>A house of owls, a foxes' den; <br>The desert that till yesterday <br>Hid her from the eyes of men <br>In its proper time and way <br>Will take her to itself again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ralph+Hodgson">Ralph Hodgson</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=480835" data-title="Babylon de Ralph Hodgson" data-description="If you could bring her glories back! 
You gentle sirs who sift the dust 
And burrow in the mould and must 
Of Babylon for bric-a-brac; 
Who catalogue and pigeon-hole 
The faded splendours of her soul 
And put her greatness under glass - 
If you co..."></div>
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