Sign Up!
Login
Home
Register
Login
Lost Password
Lost Username
Writers
Home
Search
Online Writers
Writing
Home
Search
Discover
Publishing
Home
Publishers
Self-Publishers
Literary Agents
Literary Magazines
Courses
Home
Search
Groups
Home
Search
Contests
Home
Search
Profile
Writing
Friends
Esha
I'm new
Pune , India
Offline
Share This
RSS Feed
Send Message
Invite to Groups
Add to Friends
Subscribe
Block Writer
Flag Writer
Writing
So Close Yet so Far
A Story by
Esha
Struggle with myself !!
A Book by
Esha
The Namaste Ways !!
A Story by
Esha
Lessons of life...
A Poem by
Esha
Bizarre Rituals...
A Story by
Esha
Indian society and women
A Story by
Esha
View all my writing..
Friends
Groups
Contests
Comments
Micheal Teal
Posted 15 Years Ago
A Gleam of Sunshine
This is the place. Stand still, my steed,
Let me review the scene,
And summon from the shadowy Past
The forms that once have been.
The Past and Present here unite
Beneath Time's flowing tide,
Like footprints hidden by a brook,
But seen on either side.
Here runs the highway to the town;
There the green lane descends,
Through which I walked to church with thee,
O gentlest of my friends!
The shadow of the linden-trees
Lay moving on the grass;
Between them and the moving boughs,
A shadow, thou didst pass.
Thy dress was like the lilies,
And thy heart as pure as they:
One of God's holy messengers
Did walk with me that day.
I saw the branches of the trees
Bend down thy touch to meet,
The clover-blossoms in the grass
Rise up to kiss thy feet,
"Sleep, sleep to-day, tormenting cares,
Of earth and folly born!"
Solemnly sang the village choir
On that sweet Sabbath morn.
Through the closed blinds the golden sun
Poured in a dusty beam,
Like the celestial ladder seen
By Jacob in his dream.
And ever and anon, the wind,
Sweet-scented with the hay,
Turned o'er the hymn-book's fluttering leaves
That on the window lay.
Long was the good man's sermon,
Yet it seemed not so to me;
For he spake of Ruth the beautiful,
And still I thought of thee.
Long was the prayer he uttered,
Yet it seemed not so to me;
For in my heart I prayed with him,
And still I thought of thee.
But now, alas! the place seems changed;
Thou art no longer here:
Part of the sunshine of the scene
With thee did disappear.
Though thoughts, deep-rooted in my heart,
Like pine-trees dark and high,
Subdue the light of noon, and breathe
A low and ceaseless sigh;
This memory brightens o'er the past,
As when the sun, concealed
Behind some cloud that near us hangs
Shines on a distant field.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
View All..