Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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

The Day Is Done - Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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.


Comments about The Day Is Done by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  • (12/13/2017 10:44:00 AM)


    WOW! ! ! ! Couldn't get a living person to read that? Just HAD to let the computer voice do it huh? There is no better way to utterly destroy the beauty and flow of a poem than reading it in a mechanical, stilted voice. (Report) Reply

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Funom Makama (4/18/2012 1:49:00 PM)


    Simply glorious, I love this poem. Keep it up! (Report) Reply

  • (12/31/2006 6:26:00 AM)


    This one has always been a favorite of mine. One of our masters lending such credence to the humbler everyday poet's work. The peace in the rhythm of this poem soothes my restless pulse of care; I take comfort. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: poem, music, rain, sorrow, summer, power, beauty, pain, night, song



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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