Poetry Friday - The Fire of Drift-Wood

Last week when my sister came to visit, we sat around the fire and talked. When my brother comes to visit next week, I hope to do the same. Thinking about fireside chats reminded me of this poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

The Fire of Drift-Wood
Devereaux Farm, near Marblehead

We sat within the farm-house old,
   Whose windows, looking o'er the bay,
Gave to the sea-breeze, damp and cold,
   An easy entrance, night and day.
Not far away we saw the port,
   The strange, old-fashioned, silent town,
The lighthouse, the dismantled fort,
   The wooden houses, quaint and brown.
We sat and talked until the night,
   Descending, filled the little room;
Our faces faded from the sight,
   Our voices only broke the gloom.
We spake of many a vanished scene,
   Of what we once had thought and said,
Of what had been, and might have been,
   And who was changed, and who was dead;
And all that fills the hearts of friends,
   When first they feel, with secret pain,
Their lives thenceforth have separate ends,
   And never can be one again;

Read the rest of the poem.
For more like it, look for The Seaside and The Fireside.

The round-up today is at Big A little a. Do stop by and take in some of the amazing poetry that's been shared. But wait! Before you go, there are two things you must do.

First, check out the renga that was started for this week's poetry stretch. If you're feeling game, why don't you leave a stanza?

Second, for last week's poetry stretch, one brave soul wrote an entire poem with words containing only one vowel! Can you picture it? Okay, now go read sister AE's OULIPO called Stretch.

Happy poetry Friday, all! Have a great weekend.