Poetry Friday - 12

I've decided I hate Fridays! I got paid again today - and for the third fortnight in a row, my wages were incorrect (I'm nearly £200 short). I wouldn't have believed it was possible for someone to be so consistently incompetent if I hadn't experienced it first hand.

And not even the arrival of my ticket for the Doctor Who Prom (paid for by friends as a treat) has really cheered me up... (At least my bruises from that fall I took a couple of weeks ago have finally faded !)


* * * * * *

Putting that aside (otherwise the air'll be blue around here), I have the following poem from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow as my Poetry Friday contribution this week.

Night

Into the darkness and the hush of night
Slowly the landscape sinks, and fades away,
And with it fade the phantoms of the day,
The ghosts of men and things, that haunt the
light.
The crowd, the clamor, the pursuit, the flight,
The unprofitable splendor and display,
The agitations, and the cares that prey
Upon our hearts, all vanish out of sight.
The better life begins; the world no more
Molests us; all its records we erase
From the dull common-place book of our lives,
That like a palimpsest is written o'er
With trivial incidents of time and place,
And lo! the ideal, hidden beneath, revives.


This week's Poetry Friday round-up is over at Becky's Book Reviews...