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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529129" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>An Ode</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I<br>NOT with slow, funereal sound<br>Come we to this sacred ground;<br>Not with wailing fife and solemn muffled drum,<br>Bringing a cypress wreath<br>To lay, with bended knee, <br>On the cold brows of Death—<br>Not so, dear God, we come,<br>But with the trumpets’ blare<br>And shot-torn battle-banners flung to air,<br>As for a victory! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hark to the measured tread of martial feet,<br>The music and the murmurs of the street!<br>No bugle breathes this day<br>Disaster and retreat!—<br>Hark, how the iron lips <br>Of the great battle-ships<br>Salute the City from her azure Bay!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Time was—time was, ah, unforgotten years!—<br>We paid our hero tribute of our tears.<br>But now let go <br>All sounds and signs and formulas of woe:<br>’T is Life, not Death, we celebrate;<br>To Life, not Death, we dedicate<br>This storied bronze, whereon is wrought<br>The lithe immortal figure of our thought, <br>To show forever to men’s eyes,<br>Our children’s children’s children’s eyes,<br>How once he stood<br>In that heroic mood,<br>He and his dusky braves <br>So fain of glorious graves!—<br>One instant stood, and then<br>Drave through that cloud of purple steel and flame,<br>Which wrapt him, held him, gave him not again,<br>But in its trampled ashes left to Fame <br>An everlasting name!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That was indeed to live—<br>At one bold swoop to wrest<br>From darkling death the best<br>That death to life can give. <br>He fell as Roland fell<br>That day at Roncevaux,<br>With foot upon the ramparts of the foe!<br>A pæan, not a knell,<br>For heroes dying so! <br>No need for sorrow here,<br>No room for sigh or tear,<br>Save such rich tears as happy eyelids know.<br>See where he rides, our Knight!<br>Within his eyes the light <br>Of battle, and youth’s gold about his brow;<br>Our Paladin, our Soldier of the Cross,<br>Not weighing gain with loss—<br>World-loser, that won all<br>Obeying duty’s call! <br>Not his, at peril’s frown,<br>A pulse of quicker beat;<br>Not his to hesitate<br>And parley hold with Fate,<br>But proudly to fling down <br>His gauntlet at her feet.<br>O soul of loyal valor and white truth,<br>Here, by this iron gate,<br>Thy serried ranks about thee as of yore,<br>Stand thou for evermore <br>In thy undying youth!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The tender heart, the eagle eye!<br>Oh, unto him belong<br>The homages of Song;<br>Our praises and the praise <br>Of coming days<br>To him belong—<br>To him, to him, the dead that shall not die!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Thomas+Bailey+Aldrich">Thomas Bailey Aldrich</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=529129" data-title="An Ode de Thomas Bailey Aldrich" data-description="I
NOT with slow, funereal sound
Come we to this sacred ground;
Not with wailing fife and solemn muffled drum,
Bringing a cypress wreath
To lay, with bended knee, 
On the cold brows of Death—
Not so, dear God, we come,
But with the trumpets’ bl..."></div>
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