Thursday, February 02, 2006

The Day is Done

The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of night
As a feather wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.

I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me
That my soul cannot resist:

A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.

Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of the day.

Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of time.

For, like the strains of martial music,
Their mighty throughts suggest
Life's endless toil and endeavor;
And tonight I long for rest.

Read from the humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;

Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.

Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.

Then read the treasured volume
The poem of my choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.

And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.

--- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's complete works were in my father's library, so I grew up poring over the story poems, "Evangeline", The Song of Hiawatha," etc. and the single ones like "The Psalm of Life," etc.. So to see this one in your blog with one of my favorite quotations, the last verse of "The Day Is Done," was a REAL TREAT!! Hugs to you, my dear dear friend!!! Phyllis

6:00 PM  
Blogger Endment said...

Dear anonymous, Phyllis,
One of my favorite poems, perhaps you noticed that I put this up during a week of reading deprivation. No one else seemed to notice the appeal for a poem

7:08 PM  

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