Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Voices Poems

Voices Of The Night


Pleasant it was, when woods were green,
And winds were soft and low,

Voices Of The Night : A Psalm Of Life

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream! -
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Voices Of The Night : The Light Of Stars

The night is come, but not too soon;
And sinking silently,
All silently, the little moon
Drops down behind the sky.

Voices Of The Night : Hymn To The Night

Aspasie, trillistos.

I heard the trailing garments of the Night
Sweep through her marble halls!

Voices Of The Night : The Reaper And The Flowers

There is a Reaper whose name is Death,
And, with his sickle keen,
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
And the flowers that grow between.

Voices Of The Night : Footsteps Of Angels

When the hours of Day are numbered,
And the voices of the Night
Wake the better soul, that slumbered,
To a holy, calm delight;

Voices Of The Night : Prelude

Pleasant it was, when woods were green,
And winds were soft and low,
To lie amid some sylvan scene,

Voices Of The Night : Flowers

Spake full well, in language quaint and olden,
One who dwelleth by the Castle Rhine,
When he called the flowers, so blue and golden

Voices Of The Night : The Beleaguered City

I have read, in some old, marvellous tale,
Some legend strange and vague,
That a midnight host of spectres pale

Voices Of The Night : Midnight Mass For The Dying Year

Yes, the Year is growing old,
And his eye is pale and bleared!
Death, with frosty hand and cold,

Voices Of The Night : L'Envoi

Ye voices, that arose
After the Evening's close,
And whispered to my restless heart repose!

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