| Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882). Complete Poetical Works. 1893. | | | | A Book of Sonnets | | The Poets |
| | | O YE dead Poets, who are living still | |
| Immortal in your verse, though life be fled, | |
| And ye, O living Poets, who are dead | |
| Though ye are living, if neglect can kill, | |
| Tell me if in the darkest hours of ill, | 5 |
| With drops of anguish falling fast and red | |
| From the sharp crown of thorns upon your head, | |
| Ye were not glad your errand to fulfil? | |
| Yes; for the gift and ministry of Song | |
| Have something in them so divinely sweet, | 10 |
| It can assuage the bitterness of wrong; | |
| Not in the clamor of the crowded street, | |
| Not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, | |
| But in ourselves, are triumph and defeat. | | | | |
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