Poem Lake | Page 5 | The Greatest Poems of All Time

A Psalm of Life 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, ... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	The Sifting of Peter A Folk-Song “Behold, Satan hath desired to have you, that he may sift you as wheat.”—LUKE xxii. 31. IN Saint Luke’s Gospel we are told How Peter in the days of old Was sifted; And now, though ages intervene, Sin is the same, while time... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	The Ladder of Saint Augustine 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... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	Daybreak A Wind came up out of the sea, And said, “O mists, make room for me!” It hailed the ships, and cried, “Sail on, Ye mariners, the night is gone!” And hurried landward far away, Crying, “Awake! it is the day!” It said unto the forest, “Shout!... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Moonlight on the Prairie From “Evangeline” BEAUTIFUL was the night. Behind the black wall of the forest, Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon. On the river Fell here and there through the branches a tremulous gleam of the moonlight, Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	Hymn to the Night [Greek] I Heard the trailing garments of the Night Sweep through her marble halls! I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light From the celestial walls! I felt her presence, by its spell of might, Stoop o’er me from above; The calm... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	Rain in Summer How beautiful is the rain! After the dust and heat, In the broad and fiery street, In the narrow lane, How beautiful is the rain! How it clatters along the roofs, Like the tramp of hoofs! How it gushes and struggles out From the... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	Snow-Flakes Out of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over the harvest fields forsaken, Silent and soft and slow Descends the snow. Even as our cloudy fancies take ... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The Primeval Forest From “Evangeline,” Introduction THIS is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic, Stand like harpers hoar, with beards... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow	Flowers Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars, that in earth’s firmament do shine. Stars they are, wherein we read our history, As astrologers and seers... Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow