Loss and Gain

WHEN I compare 
What I have lost with what I have gained, 
What I have missed with what attained, 
Little room do I find for pride. 

I am aware 
How many days have been idly spent; 
How like an arrow the good intent 
Has fallen short or been turned aside. 

But who shall dare 
To measure loss and gain in this wise? 
Defeat may be victory in disguise; 
The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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Endymion

THE RISING moon has hid the stars;   
Her level rays, like golden bars,   
    Lie on the landscape green,   
    With shadows brown between.   
   
And silver white the river gleams,           
As if Diana, in her dreams,   
    Had dropt her silver bow   
    Upon the meadows low.   
   
On such a tranquil night as this,   
She woke Endymion with a kiss,   
    When, sleeping in the grove,   
    He dreamed not of her love.   
   
Like Dian's kiss, unasked, unsought,   
Love gives itself, but is not bought;   
    Nor voice, nor sound betrays    
    Its deep, impassioned gaze.   
   
It comes,—the beautiful, the free,   
The crown of all humanity,—   
    In silence and alone   
    To seek the elected one.  
   
It lifts the boughs, whose shadows deep   
Are Life's oblivion, the soul's sleep,   
    And kisses the closed eyes   
    Of him who slumbering lies.   
   
O weary hearts! O slumbering eyes!   
O drooping souls, whose destinies   
    Are fraught with fear and pain,   
    Ye shall be loved again!   
   
No one is so accursed by fate,   
No one so utterly desolate,   
    But some heart, though unknown,   
    Responds unto his own.   
   
Responds,—as if with unseen wings,   
An angel touched its quivering strings;   
    And whispers, in its song,    
    "Where hast thou stayed so long?" 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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The Light of Stars

The night is come, but not too soon; 
And sinking silently, 
All silently, the little moon 
Drops down behind the sky. 

There is no light in earth or heaven 
But the cold light of stars; 
And the first watch of night is given 
To the red planet Mars. 

Is it the tender star of love? 
The star of love and dreams? 
O no ! from that blue tent above, 
A hero's armour gleams. 

And earnest thoughts within me rise, 
When I behold afar, 
Suspended in the evening skies, 
The shield of that red star. 

O star of strength! I see thee stand 
And smile upon my pain; 
Thou beckonest with thy mailed hand, 
And I am strong again. 

Within my breast there is no light 
But the cold light of stars; 
I give the first watch of the night 
To the red planet Mars. 

The star of the unconquered will, 
He rises in my breast, 
Serene, and resolute, and still, 
And calm, and self-possessed. 

And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art, 
That readest this brief psalm, 
As one by one thy hopes depart, 
Be resolute and calm. 

O fear not in a world like this, 
And thou shalt know erelong, 
Know how sublime a thing it is 
To suffer and be strong.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
 

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Nature

AS a fond mother, when the day is o'er,
  Leads by the hand her little child to bed,
  Half willing, half reluctant to be led,
  And leave his broken playthings on the floor,
Still gazing at them through the open door,
  Nor wholly reassured and comforted
  By promises of others in their stead,
  Which, though more splendid, may not please him more;
So Nature deals with us, and takes away
  Our playthings one by one, and by the hand
  Leads us to rest so gently, that we go
Scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay,
  Being too full of sleep to understand
  How far the unknown transcends the what we know.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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