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2017 June 23, Friday
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Endymion
by Henry W. Longfellow
First published online on 2010 January 08.
Editor’s Foreword
It seems that, at least among the general population and even to writers to an extent, poetry is well under appreciated these days. But, the ability to shape prose, to master the language so eloquently and succinctly is certainly a skill to be appreciated and acquired.
SFFH: Article

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 dream’d not of her love.

Like Dian’s kiss, unask’d, unsought
Love gives itself, but is not bought;
   Nor voice, nor sound betrays
   Its deep, impassion’d gaze.

It comes–the beautiful, the free,
The crown of all humanity–
   In silence and alone
   To seek the elected one.

It lifts the bows, 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 its own.

Responds–as if, with unseen wings,
A breath from heaven had touch’d its strings;
   And whispers, in its song,
   “Where hast thou stay’d so long?”

Mr. Longfellow was born in Portland, in 1807, and served as professor of the French and English languages in Harvard University. He has published “Outre Mer, a Pilgrimage beyond the Sea,” “Hyperion,” “The Spanish Student,” and two volumes of ballads and other poems.
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by Dan C. Rinnert
Not an explanation or even a summary.

 

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