Sometimes I just flip through it and read several passages, like this one tonight:
Solemnly, mournfully, Dealing its dole, The Curfew Bell Is beginning to toll. Cover the embers, And put out the light; Toil comes with the morning, And rest with the night. Dark grow the windows And quenched is the fire; Sound fades into silence, –All footsteps retire. No voice in the chambers, No sound in the hall! Sleep and oblivion Reign over all!
The book is completed, And closed, like the day; And the hand that has written it, Lays it away. Dim grow its fancies; Forgotten they lie; Like coals in the ashes, They darken and die. Song sinks into silence, The story is told, The windows are darkened, The hearth-stone is cold. Darker and darker The black shadows fall; Sleep and oblivion reign over all.
__ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
“Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was a commanding figure in the cultural life of nineteenth-century America. Born in Portland, Maine, in 1807, he became a national literary figure by the 1850s, and a world- famous personality by the time of his death in 1882. He was a traveler, a linguist, and a romantic who identified with the great traditions of European literature and thought. At the same time, he was rooted in American life and history, which charged his imagination with untried themes and made him ambitious for success.” Source: http://www.hwlongfellow.org/
Written and Photographed by Mary Gilmartin, December 5, 2012, 6:15 pm