Poem Lake | Page 2 | The Greatest Poems of All Time

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, What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel,... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	From "The Song of Hiawatha" All day long roved Hiawatha In that melancholy forest, Through the shadow of whose thickets, In the pleasant days of Summer, Of that ne’er forgotten Summer, He had brought his young wife homeward From the land of the Dacotahs; When the... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	The Warden of the Cinque Ports A mist was driving down the British Channel, The day was just begun, And through the window-panes, on floor and panel, Streamed the red autumn sun. It glanced on flowing flag and rippling pennon, And the white sails of ships; And, from the... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	My Lost Youth Often i think of the beautiful town That is seated by the sea; Often in thought go up and down The pleasant streets of that dear old town, And my youth comes back to me. And a verse of a Lapland song Is haunting my memory still:... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The Children's Hour 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... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	The Cumberland At anchor in Hampton Roads we lay, On board of the Cumberland, sloop-of-war; And at times from the fortress across the bay The alarum of drums swept past, Or a bugle blast From the camp on the shore. Then far away to the south uprose... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	The Bells of Lynn O curfew of the setting sun! O Bells of Lynn! O requiem of the dying day! O Bells of Lynn! From the dark belfries of yon cloud-cathedral wafted, Your sounds aerial seem to float, O Bells of Lynn! Borne on the evening wind across the crimson twilight, O... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	Chaucer An old man in a lodge within a park; The chamber walls depicted all around With portraitures of huntsman, hawk, and hound, And the hurt deer. He listeneth to the lark, Whose song comes with the sunshine through the dark Of painted glass in leaden lattice... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Milton I pace the sounding sea-beach and behold How the voluminous billows roll and run, Upheaving and subsiding, while the sun Shines through their sheeted emerald far unrolled, And the ninth wave, slow gathering fold by fold All its loose-flowing garments into... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	Nature 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 ... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow