Voices of the night :Prelude Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Pleasant it was, when woods were green,
        And winds were soft and low,
To lie amid some sylvan scene.
Where, the long drooping boughs between,
Shadows dark and sunlight sheen
        Alternate come and go;

Or where the denser grove receives
        No sunlight from above,
But the dark foliage interweaves
In one unbroken roof of leaves,
Underneath whose sloping eaves
        The shadows hardly move.

Beneath some patriarchal tree
        I lay upon the ground;
His hoary arms uplifted he,
And all the broad leaves over me
Clapped their little hands in glee,
        With one continuous sound;—

A slumberous sound, a sound that brings
        The feelings of a dream,
As of innumerable wings,
As, when a bell no longer swings,
Faint the hollow murmur rings
        O'er meadow, lake, and stream.