Fata Morgana. (Birds of Passage. Flight the Third) By Henry Wadsorth Longfellow

Fata Morgana. (Birds of Passage. Flight the Third)
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


O sweet illusions of song
    That tempt me everywhere,
In the lonely fields, and the throng
    Of the crowded thoroughfare!

I approach and ye vanish away,
    I grasp you, and ye are gone;
But ever by night and by day,
    The melody soundeth on.

As the weary traveller sees
    In desert or prairie vast,
Blue lakes, overhung with trees
    That a pleasant shadow cast;

Fair towns with turrets high,
    And shining roofs of gold,
That vanish as he draws nigh,
    Like mists together rolled —

So I wander and wander along,
    And forever before me gleams
The shining city of song,
    In the beautiful land of dreams.

But when I would enter the gate
    Of that golden atmosphere,
It is gone, and I wonder and wait
    For the vision to reappear.




Illusions we try to keep and some are best let go of. A link to read more is here. https://allpoetry.com/Henry_Wadsworth_Longfellow