Ghizela Rowe
aftermath henry wadsworth longfellow
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Aftermath
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(pause)
When the summer fields are mown,
When the birds are fledged and flown,
And the dry leaves strew the path;
With the falling of the snow,
With the cawing of the crow,
Once again the fields we mow
And gather in the aftermath.
Not the sweet, new grass with flowers
Is this harvesting of ours;
Not the upland clover bloom;
But the rowen mixed with weeds,
Tangled tufts from marsh and meads,
Where the poppy drops its seeds
In the silence and the gloom.
(fade)
- Album:
- Halloween Poems - Volume 1
- The Novelist as Poet
- Westminster Memorials - Volume 3
- The Georgian Poets
- Victorian Poetry - Volume 1
- The Four Seasons - The Poetry
- Kensal Green - The London Cemetery
- The Poetry of John Keats
- The Poetry of William Blake
- The Poetry of Percy Bysshe Shelley
- The Romantics - Volume 1
- The Elizabethan Poets