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.

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Comments (8)

Fantastic poem...................
Awesome workpiece..loved it!!
(Nature by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.) **Analogy, comparing nature and death with the nightly recess of a child as imposed by its mother.
.....much to contemplate in this beautiful verse ★
This poem is much deeper than appears at first glance. Leonard Wilson's comment below says it all and then some.
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