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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

The Day is Done


              1The day is done, and the darkness
              2    Falls from the wings of Night,
              3As a feather is wafted downward
              4    From an eagle in his flight.

              5I see the lights of the village
              6    Gleam through the rain and the mist,
              7And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me
              8    That my soul cannot resist:

              9A feeling of sadness and longing,
            10    That is not akin to pain,
            11And resembles sorrow only
            12    As the mist resembles the rain.

            13Come, read to me some poem,
            14    Some simple and heartfelt lay,
            15That shall soothe this restless feeling,
            16    And banish the thoughts of day.

            17Not from the grand old masters,
            18    Not from the bards sublime,
            19Whose distant footsteps echo
            20    Through the corridors of Time.

            21For, like strains of martial music,
            22    Their mighty thoughts suggest
            23Life's endless toil and endeavor;
            24    And to-night I long for rest.

            25Read from some humbler poet,
            26    Whose songs gushed from his heart,
            27As showers from the clouds of summer,
            28    Or tears from the eyelids start;

            29Who, through long days of labor,
            30    And nights devoid of ease,
            31Still heard in his soul the music
            32    Of wonderful melodies.

            33Such songs have power to quiet
            34    The restless pulse of care,
            35And come like the benediction
            36    That follows after prayer.

            37Then read from the treasured volume
            38    The poem of thy choice,
            39And lend to the rhyme of the poet
            40    The beauty of thy voice.

            41And the night shall be filled with music,
            42    And the cares, that infest the day,
            43Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
            44    And as silently steal away.


Online text copyright © 2009, Ian Lancashire (the Department of English) and the University of Toronto.
Published by the Web Development Group, Information Technology Services, University of Toronto Libraries.

Original text: The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Vol. I (Boston and New York: Houghton, Mifflin, and Co., the Riverside Press, 1886): 221-23. PS 2250 E86 Robarts Library
First publication date: 1844
Publication date note: Proem to The Waif.
RPO poem editor: Ian Lancashire
RP edition: 2003
Recent editing: 1:2003/5/25

Composition date: 1844
Composition date note: Fall
Form: quatrains
Rhyme: abcb


Other poems by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow