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.

Did you read all that? If you're like me, you probably just skimmed through the poem, only reading the words, not fully understanding them. Well, if you're like me, I suggest you go back and read it again. Letter by letter. Absorb it. Cogitate about it. Digest it. See the images form in your mind. Done? Okay.

This poem is by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and I love it. It's funny because I was never really into poems, only because I thought it was for old and/or melancholy people. That is, until I actually tried reading and writing poetry for school. And now I can say that I am an old and melancholy poetry geek. :P

Anyway, about this specific poem. I like the little part in stanzas seven and eight about the humble poet "who, through long days of labor, and nights devoid of ease, still heard in his soul the music of wonderful melodies." I think he sets a great example. Too many people today have let themselves be weighed down by negativity, and it’s a sad thing because they focus on the bad things around them and miss out on the good things. I wanted to share this poem because it reminded me to appreciate the wonderful things in life and, in doing so, to bless others. It encouraged me a whole lot, and I just hope it encourages you too.

Have a good weekend!