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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=421381" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Warrior</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=421381" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">He wrought in poverty, the dull grey days,<br> But with the night his little lamp-lit room<br>Was bright with battle flame, or through a haze<br> Of smoke that stung his eyes he heard the boom<br>Of Bluecher's guns; he shared Almeida's scars,<br> And from the close-packed deck, about to die,<br>Looked up and saw the "Birkenhead"'s tall spars<br> Weave wavering lines across the Southern sky:</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=421381" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Or in the stifling 'tween decks, row on row,<br> At Aboukir, saw how the dead men lay;<br> Charged with the fiercest in Busaco's strife,<br>Brave dreams are his -- the flick'ring lamp burns low --<br> Yet couraged for the battles of the day<br> He goes to stand full face to face with life.</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+McCrae">John McCrae</a></strong></div>

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