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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=463682" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Fifty Years On: for Bastille Day 3</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=463682" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">It seemed to me the mortal wrong, <br>the crime that marked her wretched<br>lay not in anything she did<br>but what she had neglected<br>nor could the woes of centuries <br>be righted by this course<br>but die she must, for otherwise<br>she simply was to dangerous.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=463682" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The tumbril slowly started down<br>her shoulders shook from view<br>through the mud the jeering crowd<br>followed in pursuit<br>I thought a moment-should I go? <br>but so much blood had flowed...<br>I had no special love for blood<br>and there was work to do.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=463682" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Long ago that fateful hour-<br>today is fifty years<br>since centuries of hate devoured<br>centuries of fear.<br>Maybe better, maybe not<br>than fifty years ago<br>the world turns now-but I have got<br>no less of work to do.</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=Morgan+Michaels">Morgan Michaels</a></strong></div>