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Poem	The crown of stars is broken in parts, Its jewels brighter than the day, Have one by one been stolen away To shine in other homes and hearts. —[Hanging of the Crane.] Each poem is a star that shines Within your crown of light; Each jeweled thought—a fadeless gem That dims the stars of night. A flower here and there, so sweet, Its fragrance fills the earth, Is woven in among the gems Of proud, immortal birth. Each wee Forget-me-not hath eyes As blue as yonder skies, To tell the world each song of thine Is one that never dies. The purple pansies stained with gold, The roses royal red, In softened splendor shadow forth The truths thy life hath said. Oh would the earth were filled with flowers To crown thee poet-king! And all the world unto thy feet Its wealth of love could fling. And would I were one lowly flower That fell beneath thy feet; That even in dying I might win One verse of music sweet. The poet-heart doth hold the power To thrill the hearts of men; And though the chain is broken quite It joins the links again. No hand like thine can sweep the chords, No heart like thine can sing; The poet-world is full of song And thou alone art king! Oh would my eyes could see thy face On which the glory shines! And would my soul could trace the thought That lies between the lines! But though my eyes may never see, My heart will worship still; And at the fountain of thy song My soul will drink its fill. Thy crown of stars will never break, Its circle is complete; And yet each heart some gem will keep To make its life more sweet. The following autograph letter was received from the poet: Dear Miss Sherrick:—I am much pleased and touched by the graceful and beautiful tribute you have paid me in your poem. I beg you to accept my best thanks for these kind words, and for the friendly expressions of your letter, which I have left too long unanswered. Pardon the delay and believe me with great regard, Yours sincerely, Henry W. Longfellow.
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