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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=420713" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Hive At Gettysburg</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=420713" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">IN the old Hebrew myth the lion's frame,<br>So terrible alive,<br>Bleached by the desert's sun and wind, became<br>The wandering wild bees' hive;<br>And he who, lone and naked-handed, tore<br>Those jaws of death apart,<br>In after time drew forth their honeyed store<br>To strengthen his strong heart.<br>Dead seemed the legend: but it only slept<br>To wake beneath our sky;<br>Just on the spot whence ravening Treason crept<br>Back to its lair to die,<br>Bleeding and torn from Freedom's mountain bounds,<br>A stained and shattered drum<br>Is now the hive where, on their flowery rounds,<br>The wild bees go and come.<br>Unchallenged by a ghostly sentinel,<br>They wander wide and far,<br>Along green hillsides, sown with shot and shell,<br>Through vales once choked with war.<br>The low reveille of their battle-drum<br>Disturbs no morning prayer;<br>With deeper peace in summer noons their hum<br>Fills all the drowsy air.<br>And Samson's riddle is our own to-day,<br>Of sweetness from the strong,<br>Of union, peace, and freedom plucked away<br>From the rent jaws of wrong.<br>From Treason's death we draw a purer life,<br>As, from the beast he slew,<br>A sweetness sweeter for his bitter strife<br>The old-time athlete drew!</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=John+Greenleaf+Whittier">John Greenleaf Whittier</a></strong></div>