I am the land of their fathers, <br />In me the virtue stays. <br />I will bring back my children, <br />After certain days. <br /> <br />Under their feet in the grasses <br />My clinging magic runs. <br />They shall return as strangers. <br />They shall remain as sons. <br /> <br />Over their heads in the branches <br />Of their new-bought, ancient trees, <br />I weave an incantation <br />And draw them to my knees. <br /> <br />Scent of smoke in the evening, <br />Smell of rain in the night-- <br />The hours, the days and the seasons, <br />Order their souls aright, <br /> <br />Till I make plain the meaning <br />Of all my thousand years-- <br />Till I fill their hearts with knowledge, <br />While I fill their eyes with tears.<br /><br />Rudyard Kipling<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-recall-2/
