Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poems
|521.||The Village Blacksmith||1/3/2003|
|523.||An April Day||12/31/2002|
|525.||Footsteps Of Angels||12/31/2002|
|526.||I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day||1/3/2004|
|527.||A Gleam Of Sunshine||12/31/2002|
|528.||The Arrow And The Song||12/31/2002|
|529.||A Psalm Of Life||12/31/2002|
A Gleam Of Sunshine
This is the place. Stand still, my steed,
Let me review the scene,
And summon from the shadowy Past
The forms that once have been.
The Past and Present here unite
Beneath Time's flowing tide,
Like footprints hidden by a brook,
But seen on either side.
Here runs the highway to the town;
There the green lane descends,
Through which I walked to church with thee,
O gentlest of my friends!
The shadow of the linden-trees
Lay moving on the grass;
Between them and the moving boughs,
A shadow, thou didst pass.
Thy dress ...
Oft I remember those I have known
In other days, to whom my heart was lead
As by a magnet, and who are not dead,
But absent, and their memories overgrown
With other thoughts and troubles of my own,
As graves with grasses are, and at their head
The stone with moss and lichens so o'er spread,
Nothing is legible but the name alone.
And is it so with them? After long years.