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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=533780" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Martyr</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not only on cross and gibbet,<br> By sword, and fire, and flood,<br>Have perished the world’s sad martyrs<br> Whose names are writ in blood. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A woman lay in a hovel,<br> Mean, dismal, gasping for breath;<br>One friend alone was beside her—<br> The name of him was—Death. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">For the sake of her orphan children,<br> For money to buy them food,<br>She had slaved in the dismal hovel<br> And wasted her womanhood. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Winter and Spring and Summer<br> Came each with a load of cares;<br>And Autumn to her brought only<br> A harvest of gray hairs. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Far out in the blessèd country,<br> Beyond the smoky town,<br>The winds of God were blowing<br> Evermore up and down; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The trees were waving signals<br> Of joy from the bush beyond;<br>The gum its blue-green banner,<br> The fern its dark green frond; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Flower called to flower in whispers<br> By sweet caressing names,<br>And young gum shoots sprang upward<br> Like woodland altar-flames; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, deep in the distant ranges,<br> The magpie’s fluting song<br>Roused musical, mocking echoes<br> In the woods of Dandenong; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And riders were galloping gaily<br> With loose-held flowing reins,<br>Through dim and shadowy gullies,<br> Across broad, treeless plains; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And winds through the Heads came wafting<br> A breath of life from the sea,<br>And over the blue horizon<br> The ships sailed silently; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And out of the sea at morning<br> The sun rose, golden bright,<br>And in crimson, and gold, and purple<br> Sank in the sea at night; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But in dreams alone she saw them,<br> Her hours of toil between;<br>For life to her was only<br> A heartless dead machine. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her heart was in the graveyard<br> Where lay her children three,<br>Nor work nor prayer could save them,<br> Nor tears of agony. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">On the lips of her last and dearest<br> Pressing a farewell kiss,<br>She cried aloud in her anguish—<br> “Can God make amends for this?” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dull, desperate, ceaseless slaving<br> Bereft her of power to pray,<br>And Man was careless and cruel,<br> And God was far away. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But who shall measure His mercies!<br> His ways are in the deep;<br>And, after a life of sorrow,<br> He gave her His gift of sleep. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Rest comes at last to the weary,<br> And freedom to the slave;<br>Her tired and worn-out body<br> Sleeps well in its pauper grave. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But His angel bore her soul up<br> To that Bright Land and Fair,<br>Where Sorrow enters never,<br> Nor any cloud of Care. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They came to a lovely valley,<br> Agleam with asphodel,<br>And the soul of the woman speaking<br> Said—“Here I fain would dwell!” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Angel answered gently:<br> “O Soul most pure and dear,<br>O Soul most tried and truest,<br> They dwelling is not here! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Behold thy place appointed—<br> Long kept, long waiting—come!—<br>Where bloom on the hills of heaven<br> The roses of Martyrdom!’</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=533780" data-title="The Martyr de Victor James Daley" data-description="Not only on cross and gibbet,
 By sword, and fire, and flood,
Have perished the world’s sad martyrs
 Whose names are writ in blood. 

A woman lay in a hovel,
 Mean, dismal, gasping for breath;
One friend alone was beside her—
 The name of him ..."></div>
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