Longfellow's Serenade

I love Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.  There is something in his works which are so inspiring.  Maybe not inspiring but, the words grab you and bring you along whether on a wild horse ride with Paul Revere or walking the path with Hiawatha.  Yes, Longfellow is a poet I can sink into without stressing to much over the meaning of what he is conveying. Or is the simplicity a trap, for his words full your mind with images and soon you are aware of the real focus of his work, you.  Yes, I said you; for without the reader where would a poet be?  Or any writer for that matter?  The reader is the one who sees the written works and continues their life.  The writer creates these tales, stories, poems, and songs by combining words which bring forth characters, settings, time periods, and morals alive.  That's right morals too.  I have yet to read anything which does not have some sort of moral being provided.  Even erotic literature has a moral within it, you just have to look and see it.  

However, I digest and going into the meanings of written works is something for another day.  As for now, just get lost within the words of Longfellow and enjoy his serenade of Autumn.

Autumn

Thou comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain,
With banners, by great gales incessant fanned,
Brighter than brightest silks of Samarcand,
And stately oxen harnessed to thy wain!
Thou standest, like imperial Charlemagne,
Upon thy bridge of gold; thy royal hand
Outstretched with benedictions o'er the land,
Blessing the farms through all thy vast domain!
Thy shield is the red harvest moon, suspended
So long beneath the heaven's o'er-hanging eaves;
Thy steps are by the farmer's prayers attended;
Like flames upon an altar shine the sheaves;
And, following thee, in thy ovation splendid,
Thine almoner, the wind, scatters the golden leaves! 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Neil Diamond  "Longfellow Serenade"