I CLOSED the book, but fancied still <br /> I heard, like distant music roll, <br /> The far-off echoes in my soul <br />Of his great life. I listened till, <br />Entranced, I thought that I could hear <br />5 <br /> His grand old voice amid the gloom; <br /> And in the twilight-flooded room <br />I almost felt that he was near. <br />Thou didst not die, O Milton, when <br /> Thy life on earth had ceased to be; <br />10 <br /> They never die who pass, like thee, <br />Enriching all their brother-men. <br />As often, on the edge of morn, <br /> Lingers one star, its fellows gone, <br /> Thou shin'st alone, and shalt shine on, <br />15 <br />An age of ages yet unborn.<br /><br />Frederick George Scott<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lines-written-on-finishing-the-life-of-milton/
