Made for another world

"If I discover within myself a desire which no experience in the world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world." C. S. Lewis

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Beauty Through my Eyes: The Day is Done by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

"Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful, for beauty is God's handwriting."
Ralph Waldo Emerson

I believe making time for beauty makes us better; whether it's observing the beauty of creation, being moved by great music, seeing the world through poetry or being transported by a painting. There is joy to be found in the organic rhythm of beauty all around us. The more we open ourselves to appreciating beauty the more we will see it. So, let me share with you what I find beautiful, I hope it will touch and enrich your heart.
The poetry of of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow is my favorite. He sees life and human nature with quick eyes of discernment and sympathy. His eloquent words, framing the simplest of moments, touch my heart. Tonight my thoughts turn to one of his most cherished poems. Rich in beauty, and for me sentiment, I can hear my mother's voice quoting it's lines.

The Day is Done

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I hope your night is filled with music and your cares melt away.

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