HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
Voices Of The Night : A Psalm Of Life
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Life is but an empty dream! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
There are many new, modern poets today and I read many of them, but I still enjoy these poems by the poets I read when I was in school.
In my eyes every month is, or should be, poetry month.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing this wonderful example.
Yes, I think poetry months is every month because I read poetry and write poetry year round. Do you like the poets of old? I will share some more of them.
ReplyDelete