| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 473. Adsum |
| | | December 23–24, 1863 |
| | | By Richard Henry Stoddard |
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| THE ANGEL came by night | |
| (Such angels still come down), | |
| And like a winter cloud | |
| Passed over London town; | |
| Along its lonesome streets, | 5 |
| Where Want had ceased to weep, | |
| Until it reached a house | |
| Where a great man lay asleep; | |
| The man of all his time | |
| Who knew the most of men, | 10 |
| The soundest head and heart, | |
| The sharpest, kindest pen. | |
| It paused beside his bed, | |
| And whispered in his ear; | |
| He never turned his head, | 15 |
| But answered, “I am here.” | |
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| Into the night they went. | |
| At morning, side by side, | |
| They gained the sacred Place | |
| Where the greatest Dead abide. | 20 |
| Where grand old Homer sits | |
| In godlike state benign; | |
| Where broods in endless thought | |
| The awful Florentine; | |
| Where sweet Cervantes walks, | 25 |
| A smile on his grave face; | |
| Where gossips quaint Montaigne, | |
| The wisest of his race; | |
| Where Goethe looks through all | |
| With that calm eye of his; | 30 |
| Where—little seen but Light— | |
| The only Shakespeare is! | |
| When the new Spirit came, | |
| They asked him, drawing near, | |
| “Art thou become like us?” | 35 |
| He answered, “I am here.” | |
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