Afternoon In February

The day is ending,
The night is descending;
The marsh is frozen,
The river dead.

Through clouds like ashes
The red sun flashes
On village windows
That glimmer red.

The snow recommences;
The buried fences
Mark no longer
The road o'er the plain;

While through the meadows,
Like fearful shadows,
Slowly passes
A funeral train.

The bell is pealing,
And every feeling
Within me responds
To the dismal knell;

Shadows are trailing,
My heart is bewailing
And tolling within
Like a funeral bell.

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Comments (4)

Excellent portrayal of nature's manifestations during an afternoon in February. Thanks for sharing it here.
Nothing like curling up with a poem by the Master. He has much to teach us about the art of writing.
Fantastic Poem, It's feb ending now and I feel the same.
Through clouds like ashes The red sun flashes On village windows That glimmer red ............like this poem very much....excellent write..