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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poetry

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (February 27, 1807 – March 24, 1882) was an American poet and educator whose works include "Paul Revere's Ride", The Song of Hiawatha, and Evangeline. He was also the first American to translate Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy, and was one of the five Fireside Poets. ... Read More

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Even as the Blessed, at the final summons,
Shall rise up quickened, each one from his grave,
Weari

There is no flock, however watched and tended,
But one dead lamb is there!
There is no fireside, h

I heard the bells on Christmas day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words r

When the summer fields are mown,
When the birds are fledged and flown,
And the dry leaves strew

O gift of God! O perfect day:
Whereon shall no man work, but play;
Whereon it is enough for me,
N

Black shadows fall
From the lindens tall,
That lift aloft their massive wall
Against the southern

I said unto myself, if I were dead,
What would befall these children? What would be
Their fate, wh

It is autumn; not without
But within me is the cold.
Youth and spring are all about;
It is I that

As the dim twilight shrouds
The mountain's purple crest,
And Summer's white and folded clouds
Are

Simon Danz has come home again,
From cruising about with his buccaneers;
He has singed the beard o

Sing, O Song of Hiawatha,
Of the happy days that followed,
In the land of the Ojibways,
In the pl

I stand again on the familiar shore,
And hear the waves of the distracted sea
Piteously calling an

By his evening fire the artist
Pondered o'er his secret shame;
Baffled, weary, and disheartened,

Blind Bartimeus at the gates
Of Jericho in darkness waits;
He hears the crowd;--he hears a breath

poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow #20 on top 500 poets Poet's PagePoemsQuotesCommentsStatsE-BooksBiogr

On sunny slope and beechen swell,
The shadowed light of evening fell;
And, where the maple's leaf

On the green little isle of Inchkenneth,
Who is it that walks by the shore,
So gay with his Highla

Witlaf, a king of the Saxons,
Ere yet his last he breathed,
To the merry monks of Croyland
His dr

Round Autumn's mouldering urn
Loud mourns the chill and cheerless gale,
When nightfall shades the

'A soldier of the Union mustered out,'
Is the inscription on an unknown grave
At Newport News, bes

Sweet the memory is to me
Of a land beyond the sea,
Where the waves and mountains meet,
Where ami

I leave you, ye cold mountain chains,
Dwelling of warriors stark and frore!
You, may these eyes

Thou comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain,
With banners, by great gales incessant fanned,
Brighter

The day is ending,
The night is descending;
The marsh is frozen,
The river dead.

Through cloud

I am poor and old and blind;
The sun burns me, and the wind
Blows through the city gate
And cover

When the warm sun, that brings
Seed-time and harvest, has returned again,
'T is sweet to visit the

The sun is set; and in his latest beams
Yon little cloud of ashen gray and gold,
Slowly upon the a

In the market-place of Bruges stands the belfry old and brown;
Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded

Thus then, much care-worn,
The son of Healfden
Sorrowed evermore,
Nor might the prudent hero

Annie of Tharaw, my true love of old,
She is my life, and my goods, and my gold.

Annie of Thar

I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the si

I know a maiden fair to see,
Take care!
She can both false and friendly be,
Beware! Beware!

Allah gives light in darkness,
Allah gives rest in pain,
Cheeks that are white with weeping
Al

St. Botolph's Town! Hither across the plains
And fens of Lincolnshire, in garb austere,
There came

This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling,
Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms;
But front

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,

This is the place. Stand still, my steed,
Let me review the scene,
And summon from the shadowy Pas

A fleet with flags arrayed
Sailed from the port of Brest,
And the Admiral's ship displayed
The si

Come to me, O ye children!
For I hear you at your play,
And the questions that perplexed me
Have

I have read, in some old, marvellous tale,
Some legend strange and vague,
That a midnight host of

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poetry

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (February 27, 1807 – March 24, 1882) was an American poet and educator whose works include "Paul Revere's Ride", The Song of Hiawatha, and Evangeline. He was also the first American to translate Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy, and was one of the five Fireside Poets. Longfellow was born in Portland, Maine, which was then a part of Massachusetts. He studied at Bowdoin College. After spending time in Europe he became a professor at Bowdoin and, later, at Harvard College. His first major poetry collections were Voices of the Night (1839) and Ballads and Other Poems (1841). Longfellow retired from teaching in 1854, to focus on his writing, living the remainder of his life in Cambridge, Massachusetts, in a former Revolutionary War headquarters of George Washington. His first wife Mary Potter died in 1835, after a miscarriage. His second wife Frances Appleton died in 1861, after sustaining burns when her dress caught fire. After her death, Longfellow had difficulty writing poetry for a time and focused on translating works from foreign languages. He died in 1882. Longfellow wrote many lyric poems known for their musicality and often presenting stories of mythology and legend. He became the most popular American poet of his day and also had success overseas. He has been criticized, however, for imitating European styles and writing specifically for the masses.... Read More