Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance.
. . . .
And, when the echoes had read more

Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance.
. . . .
And, when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was the
silence.

Hail to the King of Bethlehem,
Who weareth in his diadem
The yellow crocus for the gem
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Hail to the King of Bethlehem,
Who weareth in his diadem
The yellow crocus for the gem
Of his authority!

At first laying down, as a fact fundamental,
That nothing with God can be accidental.

At first laying down, as a fact fundamental,
That nothing with God can be accidental.

They, the holy ones and weakly,
Who the cross of suffering bore,
Folded their pale hands so read more

They, the holy ones and weakly,
Who the cross of suffering bore,
Folded their pale hands so meekly,
Spake with us on earth no more!

The ceaseless rain is falling fast,
And yonder gilded vane,
Immovable for three days past,
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The ceaseless rain is falling fast,
And yonder gilded vane,
Immovable for three days past,
Points to the misty main.