Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth LongfellowHoughton, 1910 - 862 pages |
Contents
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| 18 | |
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Common terms and phrases
Acadian Angel answered arrows beautiful beaver behold beneath birds breath Chibiabos Chispa cried Dacotahs dark Dead rides Sir death door doorway dreams earth Enceladus EPIMETHEUS Evangeline eyes face father Filled forest Gitche Gumee gleam golden Grand-Pré guests Gypsy hand hear heard heart heaven Hiawatha Iagoo John Alden Kenabeek King Olaf Kwasind land Lara Laughing Water light listen look loud maiden meadows mighty Miles Standish Minnehaha Mondamin moon morning Morten of Fogelsang Mudjekeewis night o'er old Nokomis Osseo Padre passed Pau-Puk-Keewis Plymouth Pray prayer Prec Preciosa Priscilla rides Sir Morten river rose round rushing sails Sandalphon sang shadow shining shouted silent singing sleep smile song Song of Hiawatha sorrow soul sound spake stars stood sunshine sweet tale thee thought unto Vict village voice waited wall wampum wandered whispered wigwam wild wind words youth
Popular passages
Page 5 - 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, Was not spoken of the soul.
Page 15 - At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, A fisherman stood aghast, To see the form of a maiden fair, Lashed close to a drifting mast. The salt sea was frozen on her breast, The salt tears in her eyes ; And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed, On the billows fall and rise. Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, In the midnight and the snow ! Christ save us all from a death like this, On the reef of Norman's Woe ! THE LUCK OF EDENHALL.
Page 187 - The heights by great men reached and kept \ ¡ Were not attained by sudden flight, '. But they, while their companions slept, Were toiling upward in the night. Standing on what too long we bore With shoulders bent and downcast eyes, We may discern — unseen before A path to higher destinies. Nor deem the irrevocable Past, As wholly wasted, wholly vain, If, rising on its wrecks, at last To something nobler we attain.
Page 64 - The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, That my soul cannot resist: A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.
Page 16 - He goes on Sunday to the church, And sits among his boys ; He hears the parson pray and preach, He hears his daughter's voice Singing in the village choir, And it makes his heart rejoice : — It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise ! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies ; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes. Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing, Onward through life he goes ; Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening...
Page 65 - And nights devoid of ease, Still heard in his soul the music Of wonderful melodies. Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer. Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice. And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares that infest the day, Shall fold their tents like the Arabs, And as silently steal away.
Page 20 - A voice replied, far up the height, Excelsior ! At break of day, as heavenward The pious monks of Saint Bernard Uttered the oft-repeated prayer, A voice cried through the startled air Excelsior ! A traveller, by the faithful hound, Half-buried in the snow was found, Still grasping in his hand of ice That banner with the strange device Excelsior ! There in the twilight cold and gray, Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay, And from the sky, serene and far, A voice fell, like a falling star, Excelsior ! POEMS...
Page 108 - ALL are architects of Fate, Working in these walls of Time ; Some with massive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme. Nothing useless is, or low ; Each thing in its place is best ; And what seems but idle show Strengthens and supports the rest. For the structure that we raise, Time is with materials filled ; Our to-days and yesterdays Are the blocks with which we build.
Page 20 - and rest Thy weary head upon this breast ! " A tear stood in his bright blue eye, But still he answered, with a sigh, Excelsior ! " Beware the pine-tree's withered branch ! Beware the awful avalanche...
Page 15 - She struck where the white and fleecy waves Looked soft as carded wool, But the cruel rocks, they gored her side Like the horns of an angry bull. Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, With the masts went by the board; Like a vessel of glass she stove and sank, Ho ! ho...