And a voice that salutes us is sweeter than all sounds else in the world of the living, And a presence that warms us is brighter than all in the world of our visions beholden, Though the dreams of our sleep were as those that the light of a world without grief makes golden. For the best that the best of us ever devised as a likeness of heaven and its glory, What was it of old, or what is it and will be for ever, in song or in story, Or in shape or in colour of carven or painted resemblance, adored of all ages, But a vision recorded of children alive in the pictures of old or the pages? Where children are not, heaven is not, and heaven if they come not again shall be never: But the face and the voice of a child are assurance of heaven and its promise for ever.