The poetical works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow in six volumes |
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| 5. | [V.
The doors are all wide open; at the gate] |
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 | The poetical works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |  |
[V.
The doors are all wide open; at the gate]
The doors are all wide open; at the gateThe blossomed lilacs counterfeit a blaze,
And seem to warm the air; a dreamy haze
Hangs o'er the Brighton meadows like a fate,
And on their margin, with sea-tides elate,
The flooded Charles, as in the happier days,
Writes the last letter of his name, and stays
His restless steps, as if compelled to wait.
I also wait; but they will come no more,
Those friends of mine, whose presence satisfied
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They have forgotten the pathway to my door!
Something is gone from nature since they died,
And summer is not summer, nor can be.
| The poetical works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow | |