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The Arrow and the Song

I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong...

Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Dante

Tuscan, that wanderest through the realms of gloom,
With thoughtful pace, and sad, majestic eyes,
Stern thoughts and awful from thy soul arise,
Like Farinata from his fiery tomb.
Thy sacred song is like the trump of doom;
Yet in thy heart what human...

Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Curfew

Solemnly, mournfully,
  Dealing its dole,
The Curfew Bell
  Is beginning to toll.

Cover the embers,
  And put out the light;
Toil comes with the morning,
  And rest with the night.

Dark grow the windows,
  And quenched...

Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
From "Evangeline"

Evangeline in ACADIE
SOMEWHAT apart from the village, and nearer the Basin of Minas,
Benedict Bellefontaine, the wealthiest farmer of Grand-Pré,
Dwelt on his goodly acres; and with him, directing his household,
Gentle Evangeline lived, his child, and the pride of...

Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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