Of all who hail thy presence as the morning- <br /> Of all to whom thine absence is the night- <br /> The blotting utterly from out high heaven <br /> The sacred sun- of all who, weeping, bless thee <br /> Hourly for hope- for life- ah! above all, <br /> For the resurrection of deep-buried faith <br /> In Truth- in Virtue- in Humanity- <br /> Of all who, on Despair's unhallowed bed <br /> Lying down to die, have suddenly arisen <br /> At thy soft-murmured words, "Let there be light!" <br /> At the soft-murmured words that were fulfilled <br /> In the seraphic glancing of thine eyes- <br /> Of all who owe thee most- whose gratitude <br /> Nearest resembles worship- oh, remember <br /> The truest- the most fervently devoted, <br /> And think that these weak lines are written by him- <br /> By him who, as he pens them, thrills to think <br /> His spirit is communing with an angel's.<br /><br />Edgar Allan Poe<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-m-l-s/
