Poem Lake | Page 6 | The Greatest Poems of All Time

Sea-Weed When descends on the Atlantic The gigantic Storm-wind of the equinox, Landward in his wrath he scourges The toiling surges, Laden with sea-weed from the rocks: From Bermuda’s reefs; from edges Of sunken ledges, In some... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	Excelsior The Shades of night were falling fast, As though 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;... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	Hawthorne How beautiful it was, that one bright day In the long week of rain! Though all its splendor could not chase away The omnipresent pain. The lovely town was white with apple-blooms, And the great elms o’erhead Dark shadows wove on their... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	Carillon In the ancient town of Bruges, In the quaint old Flemish city, As the evening shades descended, Low and loud and sweetly blended, Low at times and loud at times, And changing like a poet’s rhymes, Rang the beautiful wild chimes From the... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The Old Bridge at Florence Taddeo Gaddi built me. I am old, Five centuries old. I plant my foot of stone Upon the Arno, as Saint Michael’s own Was planted on the dragon. Fold by fold Beneath me as it struggles, I behold Its glistening scales. Twice hath it overthrown... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	The Skeleton in Armor “SPEAK! 1 speak! thou fearful guest! Who, with thy hollow breast Still in rude armor drest, Comest to daunt me! Wrapt not in Eastern balms, But with thy fleshless palms Stretched, as if asking alms, Why dost thou haunt me?” ... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	The Republic From “The Building of the Ship” THOU, too, sail on, O Ship of State! Sail on, O UNION, strong and great! Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate! We know what Master laid thy keel, ... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	The Arsenal at Springfield This is the arsenal. From floor to ceiling, Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms; But from their silent pipes no anthem pealing Startles the villages with strange alarms. Ah! what a sound will rise—how wild and dreary— When the death-angel... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The Wreck of the Hesperus It was the schooner Hesperus That sailed the wintry sea; And the skipper had taken his little daughter, To bear him company. Blue were her eyes as the fairy flax, Her cheeks like the dawn of day, And her bosom white as the hawthorn... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow