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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - Aftermath

When the summer fields are mown, 
When the birds are fledged and flown, 
And the dry leaves strew the path; 
With the falling of the snow, 
With the cawing of the crow, 
Once again the fields we mow 
And gather in the aftermath. 
Not the sweet, new grass with flowers 
Is this harvesting of ours; 
Not the upland clover bloom; 
But the rowen mixed with weeds, 
Tangled tufts from marsh and meads, 
Where the poppy drops its seeds 
In the silence and the gloom. 

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Added: Jun 9 2005 | Viewed: 8994 times | Comments and analysis of Aftermath by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Comments (1)

Aftermath - Comments and Information

Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Poem: Aftermath
Volume: Birds Of Passage

Comment 1 of 1, added on March 13th, 2006 at 5:23 PM.

He is very cool

Norma Meisenhelter from United States

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