Ye voices, that arose <br />After the Evening's close, <br />And whispered to my restless heart repose! <br /> <br />Go, breathe it in the ear <br />Of all who doubt and fear, <br />And say to them, "Be of good cheer!" <br /> <br />Ye sounds, so low and calm, <br />That in the groves of balm <br />Seemed to me like an angel's psalm! <br /> <br />Go, mingle yet once more <br />With the perpetual roar <br />Of the pine forest dark and hoar! <br /> <br />Tongues of the dead, not lost <br />But speaking from deaths frost, <br />Like fiery tongues at Pentecost! <br /> <br />Glimmer, as funeral lamps, <br />Amid the chills and darn ps <br />Of the vast plain where Death encamps!<br /><br />Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/l-envoi-2/
