Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Thy voice
Is a celestial melody.

Thy voice
Is a celestial melody.

Far off I hear the crowing of the cocks,
And through the opening door that time unlocks
read more

Far off I hear the crowing of the cocks,
And through the opening door that time unlocks
Feel the fresh breathing of To-morrow creep.

The bells themselves are the best of preachers,
Their brazen lips are learned teachers,
From their pulpits read more

The bells themselves are the best of preachers,
Their brazen lips are learned teachers,
From their pulpits of stone, in the upper air,
Sounding aloft, without crack or flaw,
Shriller than trumpets under the Law,
Now a sermon and now a prayer.

So many ghosts, and forms of fright,
Have started from their graves to-night,
They have driven sleep read more

So many ghosts, and forms of fright,
Have started from their graves to-night,
They have driven sleep from mine eyes away;
I will go down to the chapel and pray.

For age is opportunity no less than youth itself, though in another dress, and as the evening twilight fades away, read more

For age is opportunity no less than youth itself, though in another dress, and as the evening twilight fades away, the sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.