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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=454842" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Dedication</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=454842" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">LORD, on this paper white,<br>My soul would write<br>Tales that were heard of old<br>Of perilous things and bold;<br>Kings as young lions for pride;<br>Lost cities where they died<br>Last in the gate; the cry<br>That told some Eastern throng<br>A prophet was gone by;<br>The song of swords; the song<br>Of beautiful, fierce lords<br>Gone down among the swords;<br>The traffick and the breath<br>Of nations spilled in death;<br>The glory and the gleam<br>Of a whole age<br>Snared in a golden page,–<br>Such is my dream.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=454842" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Yet thanks, if yet You give<br>The crumbs by which I live,–<br>Blown shreds of beauty, broken<br>Words half unspoken,<br>So faint, so faltering,<br>They may not truly show<br>The blue on a crow's wing,<br>The berry of a brier<br>Cupped in new snow<br>As though the snow lit fire, . . .</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=Marjorie+Lowry+Christie+Pickthall">Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall</a></strong></div>