Beside that milestone where the level sun, <br />Nigh unto setting, sheds his last, low rays <br />On word and work irrevocably done, <br />Life's blending threads of good and ill outspun, <br />I hear, O friends! your words of cheer and praise, <br />Half doubtful if myself or otherwise. <br />Like him who, in the old Arabian joke, <br />A beggar slept and crowned Caliph woke. <br />Thanks not the less. With not unglad surprise <br />I see my life-work through your partial eyes; <br />Assured, in giving to my home-taught songs <br />A higher value than of right belongs, <br />You do but read between the written lines <br />The finer grace of unfulfilled designs.<br /><br />John Greenleaf Whittier<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/response-7/
