The poetical works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow in six volumes |
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 | The poetical works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |  |
TO IANTHE.
When upon the western cloud
Hang day's fading roses,
When the linnet sings aloud
And the twilight closes,—
As I mark the moss-grown spring
By the twisted holly,
Pensive thoughts of thee shall bring
Love's own melancholy.
Hang day's fading roses,
When the linnet sings aloud
And the twilight closes,—
As I mark the moss-grown spring
By the twisted holly,
Pensive thoughts of thee shall bring
Love's own melancholy.
Lo, the crescent moon on high
Lights the half-choked fountain;
Wandering winds steal sadly by
From the hazy mountain.
Yet that moon shall wax and wane,
Summer winds pass over,—
Ne'er the heart shall love again
Of the slighted lover!
Lights the half-choked fountain;
Wandering winds steal sadly by
From the hazy mountain.
Yet that moon shall wax and wane,
Summer winds pass over,—
Ne'er the heart shall love again
Of the slighted lover!
When the russet autumn brings
Blighting to the forest,
Twisted close the ivy clings
To the oak that 's hoarest;
So the love of other days
Cheers the broken-hearted;
But if once our love decays
'T is for aye departed.
Blighting to the forest,
Twisted close the ivy clings
To the oak that 's hoarest;
So the love of other days
Cheers the broken-hearted;
But if once our love decays
'T is for aye departed.
When the hoar-frost nips the leaf
Pale and sear it lingers,
Wasted in its beauty brief
By decay's cold fingers;
Yet unchanged it ne'er again
Shall its bloom recover;—
Thus the heart shall aye remain
Of the slighted lover.
Pale and sear it lingers,
Wasted in its beauty brief
By decay's cold fingers;
Yet unchanged it ne'er again
Shall its bloom recover;—
Thus the heart shall aye remain
Of the slighted lover.
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Love is like the songs we hear
O'er the moonlit ocean;
Youth, the spring-time of a year
Passed in Love's devotion!
Roses of their bloom bereft
Breathe a fragrance sweeter;
Beauty has no fragrance left
Though its bloom is fleeter.
O'er the moonlit ocean;
Youth, the spring-time of a year
Passed in Love's devotion!
Roses of their bloom bereft
Breathe a fragrance sweeter;
Beauty has no fragrance left
Though its bloom is fleeter.
Then when tranquil evening throws
Twilight shades above thee,
And when early morning glows,—
Think on those that love thee!
For an interval of years
We ere long must sever,
But the hearts that love endears
Shall be parted never.
Twilight shades above thee,
And when early morning glows,—
Think on those that love thee!
For an interval of years
We ere long must sever,
But the hearts that love endears
Shall be parted never.
| The poetical works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow | |