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Sortable List of all Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poems in our Database. Masque of Pandora and Other Poems (Birds of Passage. Flight the Fourth) This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling, Until we meet again! That is the meaning. With what a glory comes and goes the year! Keramos and Other Poems (Birds of Passage.
- 10 Greatest Poems by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
- “Haunted Houses”
- “The Rainy Day”
- “Nature”
- “The Cross of Snow”
- “The Ladder of St. Augustine”
- “Excelsior”
- “The Reapers and The Flowers”
- “The Children’s Hour”
- “The Day Is Done”
by Satyananda Sarangi Picking just 10 is a tricky equation when it concerns the works of a poet as prolific as Longfellow. From being a cornerstone of American poetry and culture to being the most widely read poet in his lifetime, he dared to establish this very fact that Romanticism wasn’t confined to Europe (or British poets to be precise). With ...
All houses wherein men have lived and died __Are haunted houses. Through the open doors The harmless phantoms on their errands glide, __With feet that make no sound upon the floors. We meet them at the doorway, on the stair, __Along the passages they come and go, Impalpable impressions on the air, __A sense of something moving to and fro. There are...
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary. My life is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary; My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past, But the hopes of youth fall ...
As a fond mother, when the day is o’er, Leads by the hand her little child to bed, Half willing, half reluctant to be led, And leave his broken playthings on the floor, Still gazing at them through the open door, Nor wholly reassured and comforted By promises of others in their stead, Which, though more splendid, may not please him more; So Nature ...
In the long, sleepless watches of the night, A gentle face—the face of one long dead— Looks at me from the wall, where round its head The night-lamp casts a halo of pale light. Here in this room she died; and soul more white Never through martyrdom of fire was led To its repose; nor can in books be read The legend of a life more benedight. There is...
Saint Augustine! well hast thou said, __That of our vices we can frame A ladder, if we will but tread __Beneath our feet each deed of shame! All common things, each day’s events, __That with the hour begin and end, Our pleasures and our discontents, __Are rounds by which we may ascend. The low desire, the base design, __That makes another’s virtues...
The shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore, ‘mid snow and ice, A banner with the strange device, __Excelsior! His brow was sad; his eye beneath, Flashed like a falchion from its sheath, And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, __Excelsior! In happy homes he saw the light Of...
There is a Reaper, whose name is Death, __And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, __And the flowers that grow between. “Shall I have naught that is fair?” saith he; __“Have naught but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, __I will give them all back again.” He gazed at the flowers with tear...
Between the dark and the daylight, __When the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the day’s occupations, __That is known as the Children’s Hour. I hear in the chamber above me __The patter of little feet, The sound of a door that is opened, __And voices soft and sweet. From my study I see in the lamplight, __Descending the broad hall stai...
The day is done, and the darkness __Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward __From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village __Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o’er me __That my soul cannot resist: A feeling of sadness and longing, __That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorr...
The little waves, with their soft, white hands, Efface the footprints in the sands, And the tide rises, the tide falls. The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls. Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls; The day returns, but nevermore. Returns the traveller to the shore, And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (February 27, 1807 – March 24, 1882) was an American poet and educator. His original works include the poems "Paul Revere's Ride", "The Song of Hiawatha", and "Evangeline". He was the first American to completely translate Dante Alighieri 's Divine Comedy and was one of the fireside poets from New England.
- Alexander Wadsworth Longfellow Jr. (nephew)
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882). Complete Poetical Works. 1893. Appendix IV. A Chronological List of Mr. Longfellow’s Poems. I N the following list the poems are set down under date of the years in which they were composed. When the date of composition is undetermined, the poem, marked by an asterisk, is placed against the year of ...
Born in Portland, Maine, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow displayed an interest in linguistics at an early age, eventually teaching modern languages at Harvard. His idealistic poetry struck a chord with a young country sharply divided over slavery. Poems such as the narrative Evangeline and “Paul Revere’s Ride” made Longfellow the most popular 19th-century American poet.
Contributor: Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth - Daniel Murray Pamphlet Collection (Library of Congress) - Coleridge-Taylor, Samuel - S. Coleridge-Taylor Choral Society (Washington, D.C.) Date: 1903-01-01 Book/Printed Material
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