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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=523158" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>II: And As I Mused On All We Call Our Own</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=523158" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And as I mused on all we call our own,<br>And (in the words their passionate hope had taught<br>Expressing this late world for which they fought<br>And prayed) said, lifting up my head to the sun,<br>'Ne quibus diis immortalibus,'-one<br>Ran with fear's feet, and lo! a voice distraught<br>'The Prince' and 'Dead.' And at the sound methought<br>The bulwark of my great house thunder'd down.<br>And, for an instant,-as some spell were sapping<br>All place-the hilly billows and billowy hills<br>Heaved through my breast the lapping wave that kills<br>The heart; around me the floor rises and falls<br>And jabbling stones of the unsteady walls<br>Ebb and flow together, lapping, lapping.</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=Sydney+Thompson+Dobell">Sydney Thompson Dobell</a></strong></div>

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