The winds have talked with him confidingly; <br />The trees have whispered to him; and the night <br />Hath held him gently as a mother might, <br />And taught him all sad tones of melody: <br />The mountains have bowed to him; and the sea, <br />In clamorous waves, and murmurs exquisite, <br />Hath told him all her sorrow and delight-- <br />Her legends fair-- her darkest mystery. <br />His verse blooms like a flower, night and day; <br />Bees cluster round his rhymes; and twitterings <br />Of lark and swallow, in an endless May, <br />Are mingling with the tender songs he sings--. <br />Nor shall he cease to sing-- in every lay <br />Of Nature's voice he sings-- and will alway.<br /><br />James Whitcomb Riley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/longfellow-4/
