Neglected record of a mind neglected, Unto what "lets and stops" art thou subjected! The day with all its toils and occupations, The night with its reflections and sensations, The future, and the present, and the past,-- All I remember, feel, and hope at last, All shapes of joy and sorrow, as they pass,-- Find but a dusty image in this glass.
Return to the Henry Wadsworth Longfellow library , or . . . Read the next poem; From My Arm-Chair