Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (February 27, 1807 – March 24, 1882) was an American poet and educator whose works include "Paul Revere's Ride", The Song of Hiawatha, and Evangeline. He was the first American to translate Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy and was one of the Fireside Poets from New England.
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Oft have I seen at some cathedral door A laborer, pausing in the dust and heat, Lay down his burden, and with reverent feet Enter, and cross himself, and on the floor Kneel to repeat his paternoster o'er; Far off the noises of the world ret...
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We sat within the farm-house old, Whose windows, looking o'er the bay, Gave to the sea-breeze damp and cold, An easy entrance, night and day
Not far away we saw the port, The strange, old-fashioned, silent town, The lighthouse, the dismantled...
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When the warm sun, that
Seed-time and harvest, has returned again,'T is sweet to visit the still wood, where springs    The first flower of the plain
I love the season well,
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
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It is autumn; not without But within me is the cold
Youth and spring are all about; It is I that have grown old
Birds are darting through the air, Singing, building without rest;
Life is stirring everywhere, Save within my lonely br...
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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,
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I stood on the bridge at midnight, As the clocks were striking the hour,
And the moon rose o'er the city, Behind the dark church-tower
I saw her bright reflection In the waters under me,
Like a golden goblet falling And sinking into...
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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 ...
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Half of my life is gone, and I have let The years slip from me and have not fulfilled The aspiration of my youth, to build Some tower of song with lofty parapet
Not indolence, nor pleasure, nor the fret Of restless passions that would not be ...
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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 lea...
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The young Endymion sleeps Endymion's sleep; The shepherd-boy whose tale was left half told
The solemn grove uplifts its shield of gold To the red rising moon, and loud and deep The nightingale is singing from the steep; It is midsummer, but t...
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Southward with fleet of ice  Sailed the corsair Death;
Wild and gast blew the blast,  And the east-wind was his breath
His lordly ships of ice  Glisten in the sun;
On each side, like pennons wide,  Flashing crystal streamlets run
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Often I think of the beautiful town That is seated by the sea;
Often in thought go up and
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: "A b...
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I heard the bells on Christmas
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and
The words
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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 m...
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Tempora labuntur, tacitisque senescimus annis,
Et fugiunt freno non remorante
ID,
Fastorum,
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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,
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