Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

(27 February 1807 – 24 March 1882 / Portland, Maine)

Holidays - Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;
The secret anniversaries of the heart,
When the full river of feeling overflows;--
The happy days unclouded to their close;
The sudden joys that out of darkness start
As flames from ashes; swift desires that dart
Like swallows singing down each wind that blows!
White as the gleam of a receding sail,
White as a cloud that floats and fades in air,
White as the whitest lily on a stream,
These tender memories are;--a fairy tale
Of some enchanted land we know not where,
But lovely as a landscape in a dream.


Comments about Holidays by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Read poems about / on: fairy, river, silence, happy, dream, wind, heart, joy, memory



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



[Report Error]