Classic Poem

Come near me, friends and brothers; hem me round
With the dear faces of my fellow-men,
The music of your tongues with magic sound
Shall cheer my heart, and make me happiest then
My soul yearns over you: the sitting hen
Cowers not more fondly o'er her callow brood
Than in most kind excuse of all your ill,
My heart is warm and patient for your good;
O, that my power were measured by my will!
Then would I bless you as I love you still,
Forgiving as I trust to be forgiven:
Here, vilest of my kind, take hand and heart,
I also am a man — 't is all thou art,
An erring, needy pensioner of heaven.