Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poems

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


Oft I remember those I have known
In other days, to whom my heart was lead
As by a magnet, and who are not dead,
But absent, and their memories overgrown
With other thoughts and troubles of my own,
As graves with grasses are, and at their head
The stone with moss and lichens so o'er spread,
Nothing is legible but the name alone.
And is it so with them? After long years.

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