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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=509944" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ash-Wednesday</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Glitt’ring balls and thoughtless revels<br>Fill up now each misspent night—<br>’Tis the reign of pride and folly,<br>The Carnival is at its height.<br>Every thought for siren pleasure,<br>And its sinful, feverish mirth;<br>Who can find one moment’s leisure<br>For aught else save things of earth? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But, see, sudden stillness falling<br>O’er those revels, late so loud,<br>And a hush comes quickly over<br>All the maddened giddy crowd,<br>For a voice from out our churches<br>Has proclaimed in words that burn:<br>“Only dust art thou, proud mortal,<br>And to dust shall thou return!” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, behold, Religion scatters<br>Dust and ashes on each brow;<br>Thus replacing gem and flower<br>With that lowly symbol now:<br>On the forehead fair of beauty,<br>And on manhood’s front of pride,<br>Rich and poor and spirit weary—<br>All receive it, side by side. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the hearts that throbbed so wildly<br>For vain pleasure’s dreams alone,<br>For its gilded gauds and follies,<br>Now at length have calmer grown.<br>Oh! that voice with heavenly power<br>Through each restless breast hath thrilled,<br>And our churches, late so lonely,<br>Now with contrite hearts are filled. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fair and lovely are our altars<br>With their starry tapers bright,<br>With dim clouds of fragrant incense,<br>Fair young choristers in white,<br>And the dying gleam of day-light,<br>With its blushing crimson glow,<br>Streaming through the lofty casement<br>On the kneeling crowd below. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Tis an hour of golden promise<br>For the hearts that secret burn<br>With contrite and anxious wishes<br>To the Father to return;<br>For a Saviour, full of mercy,<br>On His altar-throne is there,<br>Waiting but that they should ask Him,<br>For response to whispered prayer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Rosanna+Eleanor+Leprohon">Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon</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=509944" data-title="Ash-Wednesday de Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon" data-description="Glitt’ring balls and thoughtless revels
Fill up now each misspent night—
’Tis the reign of pride and folly,
The Carnival is at its height.
Every thought for siren pleasure,
And its sinful, feverish mirth;
Who can find one moment’s leisure
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