The Hanging Of The Crane Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I

The lights are out, and gone are all the guests
That thronging came with merriment and jests
         To celebrate the Hanging of the Crane
In the new house,—into the night are gone;
But still the fire upon the hearth burns on,
         And I alone remain.

         O fortunate, O happy day,
         When a new household finds its place
         Among the myriad homes of earth,
         Like a new star just sprung to birth,
         And rolled on its harmonious way
         Into the boundless realms of space!

So said the guests in speech and song,
As in the chimney, burning bright,
We hung the iron crane to-night,
And merry was the feast and long.

II

And now I sit and muse on what may be,
And in my vision see, or seem to see,
         Through floating vapors interfused with light,
Shapes indeterminate, that gleam and fade,
As shadows passing into deeper shade
         Sink and elude the sight.