<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=511206" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>1914 III: The Dead</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead! <br>There's none of these so lonely and poor of old, <br>But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold. <br>These laid the world away; poured out the red <br>Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be <br>Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene, <br>That men call age; and those who would have been, <br>Their sons, they gave, their immortality. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Blow, bugles, blow! They brought us, for our dearth, <br>Holiness, lacked so long, and Love, and Pain. <br>Honour has come back, as a king, to earth, <br>And paid his subjects with a royal wage; <br>And Nobleness walks in our ways again; <br>And we have come into our heritage.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Rupert+Brooke">Rupert Brooke</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=511206" data-title="1914 III: The Dead de Rupert Brooke" data-description="Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead! There's none of these so lonely and poor of old, But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold. These laid the world away; poured out the red Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be Of work and j..."></div> </div> </div>

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