Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poems

521. Aftermath 1/1/2004
522. Children 12/31/2002
523. An April Day 12/31/2002
524. Autumn 12/31/2002
525. I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day 1/3/2004
526. Footsteps Of Angels 12/31/2002
527. The Arrow And The Song 12/31/2002
528. A Gleam Of Sunshine 12/31/2002
529. A Psalm Of Life 12/31/2002

Comments about Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  • Sam Jones (12/21/2009 9:44:00 AM)

    OMG! His poems r awesome, but i heard this poem called Sam Jones, Conqueror of the World! It's awesome. Read it and vote it a 10! ! !

    182 person liked.
    221 person did not like.
  • Vikram Aarella - The Poem Shooter (5/18/2006 1:20:00 PM)

    I like W.Longfellow's poems, some of them are really good.

    177 person liked.
    206 person did not like.
  • Shinobu Wray (6/18/2005 11:05:00 PM)

    I wonder if the song that neil diamond wrote has any connection between his last name

    107 person liked.
    172 person did not like.
  • Sex Hamster (4/1/2005 1:51:00 PM)

    I love Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, his poems are so beautiful. They Rock! ! espesially 'the psalm of life'

    75 person liked.
    57 person did not like.
Best Poem of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

A Gleam Of Sunshine

This is the place. Stand still, my steed,
Let me review the scene,
And summon from the shadowy Past
The forms that once have been.

The Past and Present here unite
Beneath Time's flowing tide,
Like footprints hidden by a brook,
But seen on either side.

Here runs the highway to the town;
There the green lane descends,
Through which I walked to church with thee,
O gentlest of my friends!

The shadow of the linden-trees
Lay moving on the grass;
Between them and the moving boughs,
A shadow, thou didst pass.

Thy dress ...

Read the full of A Gleam Of Sunshine

The Belfrey Of Bruges

In the market-place of Bruges stands the belfrey old and brown;
Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded, still it watches o'er the town.

As the summer morn was breaking, on that lofty tower I stood,
And the world through off the darkness, like the weeds of widowhood.

Thick with towns and hamlets studded, and with streams and vapors gray,
Like a shield embossed with silver, round and vast the landscape lay.

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