Nature by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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About Jez Farmer

I am a freelance writer and poet and started writing after raising my two boys as a way of discovering just who Jez is. That is still very much an on-going project but the journey so far has introduced me to many wonderful friends and fellow writers through an ever growing love of poetry.
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