Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poems

Saint Augustine! well hast thou said,
That of our vices we can frame
A ladder, if we will but tread
Beneath our feet each deed of shame!
...

The sea awoke at midnight from its sleep,
And round the pebbly beaches far and wide
I heard the first wave of the rising tide
Rush onward with uninterrupted sweep;
...

By the shore of Gitche Gumee,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
At the doorway of his wigwam,
In the pleasant Summer morning,
...

Two good friends had Hiawatha,
Singled out from all the others,
Bound to him in closest union,
...

A wind came up out of the sea,
And said, 'O mists, make room for me.'
...

You shall hear how Hiawatha
Prayed and fasted in the forest,
Not for greater skill in hunting,
...

What the heart of the young man said to the psalmist
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!--
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
...

St. Botolph's Town! Hither across the plains
And fens of Lincolnshire, in garb austere,
There came a Saxon monk, and founded here
...

PRELUDE.

Pleasant it was, when woods were green,
And winds were soft and low,
...

The summer sun is sinking low;
Only the tree-tops redden and glow:
Only the weathercock on the spire
Of the neighboring church is a flame of fire;
...