10.08.2014, 12:56
LONGFELLOW
{March 24, 1882)
WITHIN the old historic house he lay,
Quiet at last in restless heart and brain;
Without his chamber the wan light did wane
And the March twilight gathered, chill and gray.
But all unheedful of the wasting day,
He lay and slept ; and still he sleeps ; in vain
The morning sun shall gild his window-pane —
His soul hath fared forth on an unknown way.
O sweetest psalmist of our Israel,
What new glad words now thrill upon thy tongue!
In what far country hast thou gone to dwell?
Through what fresh changes are thy numbers rung?
Lo ! thou didst leave us, taking no farewell,
And now we weep that thy last song is sung.
{March 24, 1882)
WITHIN the old historic house he lay,
Quiet at last in restless heart and brain;
Without his chamber the wan light did wane
And the March twilight gathered, chill and gray.
But all unheedful of the wasting day,
He lay and slept ; and still he sleeps ; in vain
The morning sun shall gild his window-pane —
His soul hath fared forth on an unknown way.
O sweetest psalmist of our Israel,
What new glad words now thrill upon thy tongue!
In what far country hast thou gone to dwell?
Through what fresh changes are thy numbers rung?
Lo ! thou didst leave us, taking no farewell,
And now we weep that thy last song is sung.