Tuesday, November 30, 2010


The day is cold, and dark, and dreary
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.


1 comment:

  1. I love this poem. I memorized it when I was around your age. When we went to Longfellow's house in Portland, Maine, the tour guide pointed to a vine on a wall outside the window of Longfellow's desk and read us this poem! It was really exciting to be where he was when he wrote the poem. Your picture is beautiful!