 | [Poems by Longfellow in] Final memorials of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |  |
TWELFTH-NIGHT.
Last night this room was full of sport,
For here, amid her train advancing,
The Queen of Twelfth-Night held her court,
With music, merriment, and dancing.
For here, amid her train advancing,
The Queen of Twelfth-Night held her court,
With music, merriment, and dancing.
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Upon this Spanish convent chair
The lovely maiden queen was seated;
A crown of flowers was in her hair,
And kneeling youths their sovereign greeted.
The lovely maiden queen was seated;
A crown of flowers was in her hair,
And kneeling youths their sovereign greeted.
The busts of Grecian bards sublime
Smiled from their antique oaken cases,
As if they saw renewed the time
Of all the Muses and the Graces.
Smiled from their antique oaken cases,
As if they saw renewed the time
Of all the Muses and the Graces.
And the old Poets on their shelves,
Awaking from their dusty slumbers,
Recalled what they had sung themselves
Of Youth and Beauty in their numbers.
Awaking from their dusty slumbers,
Recalled what they had sung themselves
Of Youth and Beauty in their numbers.
And round the merry dancers whirled
Beneath the evergreens and holly,—
A world of youth, a happy world,
That banished care and melancholy.
Beneath the evergreens and holly,—
A world of youth, a happy world,
That banished care and melancholy.
Now all is changed; the guests have fled,
The joyous guests, the merry-hearted.
Ah, me! the room itself seems dead,
Since so much youth and life departed!
The joyous guests, the merry-hearted.
Ah, me! the room itself seems dead,
Since so much youth and life departed!
| [Poems by Longfellow in] Final memorials of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow | |