Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

“ I ENTER, and I see thee in the gloom
⁠Of the long aisles, O poet saturnine!
⁠And strive to make my steps keep pace with thine.
⁠The air is filled with some unknown perfume;
The congregation of the dead make room
⁠For thee to pass; the votive tapers shine;
⁠Like rooks that haunt Ravenna's groves of pine
⁠The hovering echoes fly from tomb to tomb. ”

“ Thy fame is blown abroad from all the heights,
⁠Through all the nations, and a sound is heard,
⁠As of a mighty wind, and men devout,
Strangers of Rome, and the new proselytes,
⁠In their own language hear thy wondrous word,
⁠And many are amazed and many doubt. ”