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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=480896" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>In Memoriam</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I mourn upon this battle-field,<br>But not for those who perished here.<br>Behold the river-bank<br>Whither the angry farmers came,<br>In sloven dress and broken rank,<br>Nor thought of fame.<br>Their deed of blood<br>All mankind praise;<br>Even the serene Reason says,<br>It was well done.<br>The wise and simple have one glance<br>To greet yon stern head-stone,<br>Which more of pride than pity gave<br>To mark the Briton's friendless grave.<br>Yet it is a stately tomb;<br>The grand return<br>Of eve and morn,<br>The year's fresh bloom,<br>The silver cloud,<br>Might grace the dust that is most proud.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet not of these I muse<br>In this ancestral place,<br>But of a kindred face<br>That never joy or hope shall here diffuse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, brother of the brief but blazing star!<br>What hast thou to do with these<br>Haunting this bank's historic trees?<br>Thou born for noblest life,<br>For action's field, for victor's car,<br>Thou living champion of the right?<br>To these their penalty belonged:<br>I grudge not these their bed of death,<br>But thine to thee, who never wronged<br>The poorest that drew breath.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All inborn power that could<br>Consist with homage to the good<br>Flamed from his martial eye;<br>He who seemed a soldier born,<br>He should have the helmet worn,<br>All friends to fend, all foes defy,<br>Fronting foes of God and man,<br>Frowning down the evil-doer,<br>Battling for the weak and poor.<br>His from youth the leader's look<br>Gave the law which others took,<br>And never poor beseeching glance<br>Shamed that sculptured countenance.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is no record left on earth,<br>Save in tablets of the heart,<br>Of the rich inherent worth,<br>Of the grace that on him shone,<br>Of eloquent lips, of joyful wit;<br>He could not frame a word unfit,<br>An act unworthy to be done;<br>Honour prompted every glance,<br>Honour came and sat beside him,<br>In lowly cot or painful road,<br>And evermore the cruel god<br>Cried, 'Onward!' and the palm-crown showed.<br>Born for success he seemed,<br>With grace to win, with heart to hold,<br>With shining gifts that took all eyes,<br>With budding power in college-halls,<br>As pledged in coming days to forge<br>Weapons to guard the State, or scourge<br>Tyrants despite their guards or walls.<br>On his young promise Beauty smiled,<br>Drew his free homage unbeguiled,<br>And prosperous Age held out his hand,<br>And richly his large future planned,<br>And troops of friends enjoyed the tide,--<br>All, all was given, and only health denied.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I see him with superior smile<br>Hunted by Sorrow's grisly train<br>In lands remote, in toil and pain,<br>With angel patience labour on,<br>With the high port he wore erewhile,<br>When, foremost of the youthful band,<br>The prizes in all lists he won;<br>Nor bate one jot of heart or hope,<br>And, least of all, the loyal tie<br>Which holds to home 'neath every sky,<br>The joy and pride the pilgrim feels<br>In hearts which round the hearth at home<br>Keep pulse for pulse with those who roam.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What generous beliefs console<br>The brave whom Fate denies the goal!<br>If others reach it, is content;<br>To Heaven's high will his will is bent.<br>Firm on his heart relied,<br>What lot soe'er betide,<br>Work of his hand<br>He nor repents nor grieves,<br>Pleads for itself the fact,<br>As unrepenting Nature leaves<br>Her every act.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fell the bolt on the branching oak;<br>The rainbow of his hope was broke;<br>No craven cry, no secret tear,--<br>He told no pang, he knew no fear;<br>Its peace sublime his aspect kept,<br>His purpose woke, his features slept;<br>And yet between the spasms of pain<br>His genius beamed with joy again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O'er thy rich dust the endless smile<br>Of Nature in thy Spanish isle<br>Hints never loss or cruel break<br>And sacrifice for love's dear sake,<br>Nor mourn the unalterable Days<br>That Genius goes and Folly stays.<br>What matters how, or from what ground,<br>The freed soul its Creator found?<br>Alike thy memory embalms<br>That orange-grove, that isle of palms,<br>And these loved banks, whose oak-boughs bold<br>Root in the blood of heroes old.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ralph+Waldo+Emerson">Ralph Waldo Emerson</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=480896" data-title="In Memoriam de Ralph Waldo Emerson" data-description="I mourn upon this battle-field,
But not for those who perished here.
Behold the river-bank
Whither the angry farmers came,
In sloven dress and broken rank,
Nor thought of fame.
Their deed of blood
All mankind praise;
Even the serene Reason says,
I..."></div>
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