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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=341453" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Stafford Henry Northcote</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=341453" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Gentle in fibre, but of steadfast nerve<br>Still to do right though right won blame not praise,<br>And fallen on evil tongues and evil days<br>When men from plain straight duty twist and swerve,<br>And, born to nobly sway, ignobly serve,<br>Sliming their track to power through tortuous ways,<br>He felt, with that fine sense that ne'er betrays,<br>The line of moral beauty's not a curve.<br>But, proving wisdom folly, virtue vain,<br>He stretched his hands out to the other shore,<br>And was by kindred spirits beckoned o'er<br>Into the gloaming Land where setteth pain,<br>While we across the silent river strain<br>Idly our gaze, and find his form no more.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Alfred+Austin">Alfred Austin</a></strong></div>

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