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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=533724" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Amaranth</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">ONCE a poet—long ago—<br> Wrote a song as void of art<br>As the songs that children know,<br> And as pure as a child’s heart. <br>With a sigh he threw it down,<br> Saying, “This will never shed<br>Any glory or renown<br> On my name when I am dead. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“I will sing a lordly song<br> Men shall hear, when I am gone,<br>Through the years sound clear and strong<br> As a golden clarion.” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So this lordly song he sang<br> That would gain him deathless fame—<br>When the death-knell o’er him rang<br> No man even knew its name. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ay, and when his way he found<br> To the place of singing souls,<br>And beheld their bright heads crowned<br> With song-woven aureoles, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He stood shame-faced in the throng,<br> For his brow of wreath was bare,<br>And, alas! his lordly song<br> Sere had grown in that sweet air; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then, all sudden, a divine<br> Light fell on him from afar,<br>And he felt the child-song shine<br> On his forehead like a star. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So for ever. Each and all<br> Songs of passion or of mirth<br>That are not heart-pure shall fall<br> As a sky-lark’s—to the earth; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But the soul’s song has no bounds—<br> Like the voice of Israfel,<br>From the heaven of heavens it sounds<br> To the very hell of hell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Victor+James+Daley">Victor James Daley</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=533724" data-title="Amaranth de Victor James Daley" data-description="ONCE a poet—long ago—
 Wrote a song as void of art
As the songs that children know,
 And as pure as a child’s heart. 
With a sigh he threw it down,
 Saying, “This will never shed
Any glory or renown
 On my name when I am dead. 

“I will ..."></div>
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