Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poems

481. Hymn To The Night 12/31/2002
482. Allah. (From The German Of Mahlmann) 3/30/2010
483. Tide Rises, The Tide Falls, The 12/31/2002
484. The Wreck Of The Hesperus 1/3/2003
485. Woods In Winter 12/31/2002
486. Birds Of Passage 12/31/2002
487. Village Blacksmith, The 12/31/2002
488. Endymion 12/31/2002
489. Dante 12/31/2002
490. Hiawatha's Fishing 12/31/2002
491. Daylight And Moonlight 1/3/2003
492. Flowers 12/31/2002
493. Memories 1/3/2003
494. A Day Of Sunshine. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Second) 3/30/2010
495. Moonlight 1/3/2003
496. Excelsior 12/31/2002
497. Belfry Of Bruges, The 12/31/2002
498. My Lost Youth 12/31/2002
499. The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls 1/3/2003
500. Evening Star, The 12/31/2002
501. Snow-Flakes. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Second) 3/30/2010
502. A Song Of Savoy 3/30/2010
503. The Three Kings 1/3/2003
504. Day Is Done, The 12/31/2002
505. Belisarius 1/3/2003
506. Paul Revere's Ride (The Landlord's Tale) 1/3/2003
507. A Summer Day By The Sea 3/30/2010
508. Arsenal At Springfield, The 12/31/2002
509. Beleaguered City, The 12/31/2002
510. Evangeline: A Tale Of Acadie 12/31/2002
511. Loss And Gain 12/31/2002
512. A Nameless Grave 3/30/2010
513. Christmas Bells 1/1/2004
514. The Rainy Day 1/3/2003
515. Nature 12/31/2002
516. The Children's Hour 12/31/2002
517. Autumn Within 12/31/2002
518. A Shadow 3/30/2010
519. Afternoon In February 12/31/2002
520. The Village Blacksmith 1/3/2003
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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