Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Aftermath

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 rowan mixed with weeds,
Tangled tufts from marsh and meads,
Where the poppy drops its seeds
    In the silence and the gloom.

1. To the River Rhone
2. To the River Yvette
3. Oliver Basselin
4. King Olaf’s War-Horns
5. The Crew of the Long Serpent

Amy Lowell Aftermath ("I learnt to write to you in happier days")

Print

1273 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version