30.07.2007, 10:17
George Eliot
Some climb the heights and like the crests grow cold,
Wrapped in the splendor of their own proud view;
Forgetful of the crowd whose toils untold
Have dressed the very soil on which they grew;
But thou, O woman with a soul as fine,
Hadst still the all-embracing heart to see
The light of Heaven pour out its beams devine
On all the humbler lives so dear to thee;
And there they shine from pages ever fair,
Untouched by time, in living pictures bright;
Where freedom breathes a pure, ampler air,
And kindness mellows all the searching light
Poured by a great heart's loving sympathy--
O heart that beat for all humanity!
Some climb the heights and like the crests grow cold,
Wrapped in the splendor of their own proud view;
Forgetful of the crowd whose toils untold
Have dressed the very soil on which they grew;
But thou, O woman with a soul as fine,
Hadst still the all-embracing heart to see
The light of Heaven pour out its beams devine
On all the humbler lives so dear to thee;
And there they shine from pages ever fair,
Untouched by time, in living pictures bright;
Where freedom breathes a pure, ampler air,
And kindness mellows all the searching light
Poured by a great heart's loving sympathy--
O heart that beat for all humanity!