Galerie

Camera cu vedere la strada- XVIII- Inginerii 2014


 

It Is Not Always May

  BY: HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW (1807-1882)

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The sun is bright,–the air is clear,
The darting swallows soar and sing.
And from the stately elms I hear
The bluebird prophesying Spring.

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So blue you winding river flows,
It seems an outlet from the sky,
Where waiting till the west-wind blows,
The freighted clouds at anchor lie.

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All things are new;–the buds, the leaves,
That gild the elm-tree’s nodding crest,
And even the nest beneath the eaves;–
There are no birds in last year’s nest!

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All things rejoice in youth and love,
The fulness of their first delight!
And learn from the soft heavens above
The melting tenderness of night.

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Maiden, that read’st this simple rhyme,
Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay;
Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime,
For oh, it is not always May!

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Enjoy the Spring of Love and Youth,
To some good angel leave the rest;
For Time will teach thee soon the truth,
There are no birds in last year’s nest!

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