Nature

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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.

Next 10 Poems

• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow : Norman Baron, The
• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow : Nuremberg
• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow : O Ship Of State
• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow : Occultation Of Orion, The
• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow : Old Clock On The Stairs, The
• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow : Paul Revere's Ride
• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow : Pau-puk-keewis
• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow : Peace-pipe, The
• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow : Picture-writing
• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow : Quadroon Girl, The

Previous 10 Poems

• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow : My Lost Youth
• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow : Morituri Salutamus: Poem For The Fiftieth Anniversary Of The Class Of 1825 In Bowdoin College
• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow : Moonlight
• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow : Milton
• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow : Midnight Mass For The Dying Year
• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow : Mezzo Cammin
• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow : Memories
• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow : Maidenhood
• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow : Loss And Gain
• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow : Light Of Stars, The