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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538045" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Conqueror’s Grave</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">WITHIN this lowly grave a Conqueror lies,<br>And yet the monument proclaims it not,<br>Nor round the sleeper’s name hath chisel wrought<br>The emblems of a fame that never dies,—<br>Ivy and amaranth, in a graceful sheaf, <br>Twined with the laurel’s fair, imperial leaf.<br>A simple name alone,<br>To the great world unknown,<br>Is graven here, and wild-flowers, rising round,<br>Meek meadow-sweet and violets of the ground, <br>Lean lovingly against the humble stone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here, in the quiet earth, they laid apart<br>No man of iron mould and bloody hands,<br>Who sought to wreak upon the cowering lands<br>The passions that consumed his restless heart; <br>But one of tender spirit and delicate frame,<br>Gentlest, in mien and mind,<br>Of gentle womankind,<br>Timidly shrinking from the breath of blame:<br>One in whose eyes the smile of kindness made <br>Its haunts, like flowers by sunny brooks in May,<br>Yet, at the thought of others’ pain, a shade<br>Of sweeter sadness chased the smile away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor deem that when the hand that moulders here<br>Was raised in menace, realms were chilled with fear, <br>And armies mustered at the sign, as when<br>Clouds rise on clouds before the rainy East—<br>Gray captains leading bands of veteran men<br>And fiery youths to be the vulture’s feast.<br>Not thus were waged the mighty wars that gave <br>The victory to her who fills this grave:<br>Alone her task was wrought,<br>Alone the battle fought;<br>Through that long strife her constant hope was stayed<br>On God alone, nor looked for other aid. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She met the hosts of Sorrow with a look<br>That altered not beneath the frown they wore,<br>And soon the lowering brood were tamed, and took,<br>Meekly, her gentle rule, and frowned no more.<br>Her soft hand put aside the assaults of wrath, <br>And calmly broke in twain<br>The fiery shafts of pain,<br>And rent the nets of passion from her path.<br>By that victorious hand despair was slain.<br>With love she vanquished hate and overcame <br>Evil with good, in her Great Master’s name.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her glory is not of this shadowy state,<br>Glory that with the fleeting season dies;<br>But when she entered at the sapphire gate<br>What joy was radiant in celestial eyes! <br>How heaven’s bright depths with sounding welcomes rung,<br>And flowers of heaven by shining hands were flung!<br>And He who, long before,<br>Pain, scorn, and sorrow bore,<br>The Mighty Sufferer, with aspect sweet, <br>Smiled on the timid stranger from his seat;<br>He who returning, glorious, from the grave,<br>Dragged Death, disarmed, in chains, a crouching slave.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">See, as I linger here, the sun grows low;<br>Cool airs are murmuring that the night is near. <br>Oh, gentle sleeper, from thy grave I go<br>Consoled though sad, in hope and yet in fear.<br>Brief is the time, I know,<br>The warfare scarce begun;<br>Yet all may win the triumphs thou hast won. <br>Still flows the fount whose waters strengthened thee,<br>The victors’ names are yet too few to fill<br>Heaven’s mighty roll; the glorious armory,<br>That ministered to thee, is open still.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Cullen+Bryant">William Cullen Bryant</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=538045" data-title="The Conqueror’s Grave de William Cullen Bryant" data-description="WITHIN this lowly grave a Conqueror lies,
And yet the monument proclaims it not,
Nor round the sleeper’s name hath chisel wrought
The emblems of a fame that never dies,—
Ivy and amaranth, in a graceful sheaf, 
Twined with the laurel’s fair, ..."></div>
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