"A Psalm of Life" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The nineteenth century poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow is occasionally mentioned in several of the BryonySeries books because the mother of character Henry Matthews is fond of Longfellow's poetry.

One poem, the poem below, is featured in its entirety in "Bryony", when Melissa Marchellis' English teacher Harold Masters recites it from memory in class.

I recently encountered this poem for the first time in many years, and I was struck by how each line of the poem, well, struck me, during this recent re-read - and made me ponder and reflect.

Since many of us aren't reading Longfellow these days and even less of us have (or had) teachers that recited his poems in class, I'm sharing this poem with you today.

It's one of those poems where you can read it at face value the first time and then return to it later for another read, a slower read, and gain fresh insight.

Enjoy!

"A Psalm of Life" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882)

This poem is featured in "Bryony"

What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,

Life is but an empty dream!—

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal;

Dust thou art, to dust returnest,

Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way;

But to act, that each to-morrow

Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating 

Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,

In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle!

Be a hero in the strife! 

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!

Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Act,—act in the living Present!

Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,

And, departing, leave behind us

Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,

Sailing o'er life's solemn main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labor and to wait.

The Luna Moth on my Window

During the late afternoon on June 26, I glanced up from the computer where I was working on deadline and saw this creature, left wing flapping in the breeze.

I got up for a closer look, wondering what in the heck it was, and then snapped a couple of pictures and texted them to Nancy Kuhajda, University of Illinois Extension Will and Grundy master gardener and program coordinator.

Nancy said it was a luna moth, “magnificent member of the silk moth family.”

“Sadly, these beautiful adults only live about five to ten days days because they're born without mouths,” Nancy said.

Luna moths don’t eat, and they don’t drink, none of the silk moths do. “It’s “tragic, really,” Nancy said.

She said once luna moths hatch from their cocoons, they find their mate and then die.

“In a somewhat chemical irony, there was a sleeping pill called Lunesta that used the lunar moth in their logo,” Nancy said. “In reality moths are up all night.”

So why was this luna moth hanging out on my window? Seeking shade, most likely, Nancy said. Large moths are easy prey for birds and other animals during the day and typically come out after dark, Nancy said.

Lina moths tend to fly high and toward trees, she said.

“Often in the mornings, I'll see them inside the top of the pavilion at Pilcher Park,” Nancy said.  It's just where they hang out. And also if it's not moving, it could have just landed and died there…That's just what happens.”

She said the “little hands” of luna moths have hooks in them, so like they hooking to screens.

“It may have passed, but it could also just be waiting for nighttime,” Nancy said. “And then it'll be there one minute and gone the next.”

I “googled” luna moths and read they symbolize the cycle of life and death, transformation and change.

Hmmm.

So what happened to my luna moth?’

It stayed all evening and was still hanging onto my window when I went to bed. When I awakened in the morning, it was gone.

“Just consider it a blessing that you got to see it so up close,” Nancy said. “Very few people see them live and in-person.”

"A Psalm of Life," by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

A Psalm of Life by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882)

This poem is featured in Bryony.



What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist


TELL me not, in mournful numbers,

Life is but an empty dream!—

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.


Life is real! Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal;

Dust thou art, to dust returnest,

Was not spoken of the soul.


Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way;

But to act, that each to-morrow

Find us farther than to-day.


Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating 

Funeral marches to the grave.


In the world's broad field of battle,

In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle!

Be a hero in the strife! 


Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!

Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Act,—act in the living Present!

Heart within, and God o'erhead!


Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,

And, departing, leave behind us

Footprints on the sands of time;


Footprints, that perhaps another,

Sailing o'er life's solemn main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

Seeing, shall take heart again.


Let us, then, be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labor and to wait