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The Children's Hour and Other Poems: Paul Revere's Ride and Other Poems (1894)
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
No preview available - 2009
The Children's Hour and Other Poems: Paul Revere's Ride and Other Poems
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
No preview available - 2017
arms beautiful bell beneath birds blow breath bright Brook cents chamber Charles church closed cloud comes dark dead death deep died door dream earth eyes face fair fall feel feet fields fire fleet flows follow forever gleam golden hand head hear heard heart heaven hour King land leaves lies light lives Longfellow look loud March meet morning mountain never night North o'er ocean once passed Past peace poem poet prayer rain rest ride rise river roar round sailed seemed shadow ships shore silent singing sleep song soul sound stands stars steed stood story strange street summer sweet thee thou thoughts tide tower town translations turned village voice walls wander waves wild wind written wrote youth
Page 62 - THERE is no flock, however watched and tended. But one dead lamb is there! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair! The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead ; The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Will not be comforted. Let us be patient ! These severe afflictions Not from the ground arise, But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise.
Page 2 - If the British march By land or sea from the town tonight, Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch Of the North Church tower as a signal light,— One, if by land, and two, if by sea; And I on the opposite shore will be, Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village and farm, For the country folk to be up and to arm.
Page 78 - 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, 1 knew not where ; For who has sight so keen and strong.
Page 4 - A hurry of hoofs in a village street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet: That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light. The fate of a nation was riding that night ; And the spark struck out by that steed in his flight, Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
Page 83 - 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 touches those swift keys ! What loud lament and dismal Miserere Will mingle with their awful symphonies...
Page 51 - And children coming home from school Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
Page 41 - But when I older grew, Joining a corsair's crew, O'er the dark sea I flew With the marauders. Wild was the life we led ; Many the souls that sped, Many the hearts that bled, By our stern orders.
Page 33 - WHENE'ER a noble deed is wrought, Whene'er is spoken a noble thought, Our hearts, in glad surprise, To higher levels rise. The tidal wave of deeper souls Into our inmost being rolls, And lifts us unawares Out of all meaner cares.
Page 63 - Day after day, we think what she is doing In those bright realms of air ; Year after year, her tender steps pursuing, Behold her grown more fair. Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken The bond which nature gives, Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken, May reach her where she lives.