MY days among the Dead are past; <br /> Around me I behold, <br />Where'er these casual eyes are cast, <br /> The mighty minds of old: <br />My never-failing friends are they, <br />With whom I converse day by day. <br /> <br />With them I take delight in weal <br /> And seek relief in woe; <br />And while I understand and feel <br /> How much to them I owe, <br />My cheeks have often been bedew'd <br />With tears of thoughtful gratitude. <br /> <br />My thoughts are with the Dead; with them <br /> I live in long-past years, <br />Their virtues love, their faults condemn, <br /> Partake their hopes and fears; <br />And from their lessons seek and find <br />Instruction with an humble mind. <br /> <br />My hopes are with the Dead; anon <br /> My place with them will be, <br />And I with them shall travel on <br /> Through all Futurity; <br />Yet leaving here a name, I trust, <br />That will not perish in the dust.<br /><br />Robert Southey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/his-books/
