LONGFELLOW. <br /> <br />WITH a glory of winter sunshine <br />Over his locks of gray, <br />In the old historic mansion <br />He sat on his last birthday; <br /> <br />With his books and his pleasant pictures, <br />And his household and his kin, <br />While a sound as of myriads singing <br />From far and near stole in. <br /> <br />It came from his own fair city, <br />From the prairie's boundless plain, <br />From the Golden Gate of sunset, <br />And the cedarn woods of Maine. <br /> <br />And his heart grew warm within him, <br />And his moistening eyes grew dim, <br />For he knew that his country's children <br />Were singing the songs of him, <br /> <br />The lays of his life's glad morning, <br />The psalms of his evening time, <br />Whose echoes shall float forever <br />On the winds of every clime. <br /> <br />All their beautiful consolations, <br />Sent forth like birds of cheer, <br />Came flocking back to his windows, <br />And sang in the Poet's ear. <br /> <br />Grateful, but solemn and tender, <br />The music rose and fell <br />With a joy akin to sadness <br />And a greeting like farewell. <br /> <br />With a sense of awe he listened <br />To the voices sweet and young; <br />The last of earth and the first of heaven <br />Seemed in the songs they sung. <br /> <br />And waiting a little longer <br />For the wonderful change to come, <br />He heard the Summoning Angel, <br />Who calls God's children home! <br /> <br />And to him in a holier welcome <br />Was the mystical meaning given <br />Of the words of the blessed Master <br />'Of such is the kingdom of heaven!'<br /><br />John Greenleaf Whittier<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-poet-and-the-children/
