Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

(27 February 1807 – 24 March 1882 / Portland, Maine)

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poems

161. In The Harbour: Four By The Clock 3/30/2010
162. In The Harbour: From The French 3/30/2010
163. In The Harbour: Loss And Gain 3/30/2010
164. In The Harbour: Memories 3/30/2010
165. In The Harbour: Moonlight 3/30/2010
166. In The Harbour: Possibilities 3/30/2010
167. In The Harbour: Prelude 3/30/2010
168. In The Harbour: Sundown 3/30/2010
169. In The Harbour: The Children's Crusade 3/30/2010
170. In The Harbour: The City And The Sea 3/30/2010
171. In The Harbour: The Four Lakes Of Madison 3/30/2010
172. In The Harbour: The Poet's Calendar 3/30/2010
173. In The Harbour: The Wine Of Jurançon. (From The French Of Charles Coran) 3/30/2010
174. In The Harbour: To The Avon 3/30/2010
175. Inscription On The Shanklin Fountain 3/30/2010
176. Introduction To The Song Of Hiawatha 1/1/2004
177. It Is Not Always May 12/31/2002
178. Italian Scenery 3/30/2010
179. Jeckoyva 3/30/2010
180. Jugurtha 1/3/2003
181. Keats 1/1/2004
182. Kéramos 3/30/2010
183. King Christian, A National Song Of Denmark. (From The Danish Of Johannes Evald) 3/30/2010
184. King Trisanku 1/3/2003
185. Ladder Of St. Augustine, The 12/31/2002
186. L'Envoi 12/31/2002
187. Light Of Stars, The 12/31/2002
188. Loss And Gain 12/31/2002
189. Mad River, In The White Mountains 3/30/2010
190. Maidenhood 12/31/2002
191. Memories 1/3/2003
192. Mezzo Cammin 12/31/2002
193. Midnight Mass For The Dying Year 12/31/2002
194. Milton 1/1/2004
195. Monte Cassino. Terra Di Lavoro. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Fourth) 3/30/2010
196. Moods 3/30/2010
197. Moonlight 1/3/2003
198. Morituri Salutamus: Poem For The Fiftieth Anniversary 1/1/2004
199. Mr. Finney's Turnip 3/30/2010
200. Musings 3/30/2010
Best Poem of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the ...

Read the full of A Psalm Of Life

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:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

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