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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529169" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Monody on the Death of Wendell Phillips</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One by one they go <br>Into the unknown dark-- <br>Star-lit brows of the brave, <br>Voices that drew men's souls. <br>Rich is the land, O Death! <br>Can give you dead like our dead!-- <br>Such as he from whose hand <br>The magic web of romance <br>Slipt, and the art was lost! <br>Such as he who erewhile-- <br>The last of the Titan brood-- <br>With his thunder the Senate shook; <br>Or he who, beside the Charles, <br>Untoucht of envy or hate, <br>Tranced the world with his song; <br>Or that other, that grey-eyed seer <br>Who in pastoral Concord ways <br>With Plato and Hâfiz walked.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not of these was the man <br>Whose wraith, through the mists of night, <br>Through the shuddering wintry stars, <br>Has passed to eternal morn. <br>Fit were the moan of the sea <br>And the clashing of cloud on cloud <br>For the passing of that soul!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ever he faced the storm! <br>No weaver of rare romance, <br>No patient framer of laws, <br>No maker of wondrous rhyme, <br>No bookman wrapt in his dream.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His was the voice that rang <br>In the fight like a bugle-call, <br>And yet could be tender and low <br>As when, on a night in June, <br>The hushed wind sobs in the pines. <br>His was the eye that flashed <br>With a sabre's azure gleam, <br>Pointing to heights unwon!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not for him were these days <br>Of clerky and sluggish calm-- <br>To the petrel the swooping gale! <br>Austere he seemed, but the hearts <br>Of all men beat in his breast; <br>No fetter but galled his wrist, <br>No wrong that was not his own. <br>What if those eloquent lips <br>Curled with the old-time scorn? <br>What if in needless hours <br>His quick hand closed on the hilt? <br>'T was the smoke from the well-won fields <br>That clouded the vetran's eyes. <br>A fighter this to the end.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, if in coming times <br>Some giant evil arise, <br>And Honor falter and pale, <br>His were a name to conjure with! <br>God send his like again!</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=529169" data-title="Monody on the Death of Wendell Phillips de Thomas Bailey Aldrich" data-description="I

One by one they go 
Into the unknown dark-- 
Star-lit brows of the brave, 
Voices that drew men's souls. 
Rich is the land, O Death! 
Can give you dead like our dead!-- 
Such as he from whose hand 
The magic web of romance 
Slipt, and the art w..."></div>
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