Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
Parker Cleveland. Written On Revisiting Brunswick In The Summer Of 1875
Among the many lives that I have known,None I remember more serene and sweet,More rounded in itself and more complete,Than his, who lies beneath this..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Ovid In Exile, At Tomis, In Bessarabia, Near The Mouths Of The Danube
(Tristia, Book III. Elegy X.)Should any one there in Rome remember Ovid the exile,And, without me, my name still in the city survive;Tell him that..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
On The Terrace Of The Aigalades. (From The French Of Méry)
From this high portal, where upspringsThe rose to touch our hands in play,We at a glance behold three things--The Sea, the Town, and the Highway.And..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Oliver Basselin. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)
In the Valley of the VireStill is seen an ancient mill,With its gables quaint and queer,And beneath the window-sill,On the stone,These words..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Old St David's At Radnor
What an image of peace and restIs this little church among its graves!All is so quiet; the troubled breast,The wounded spirit, the heart..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Old Age. (Sonnet Iv.)
The course of my long life hath reached at last,In fragile bark o'er a tempestuous sea,The common harbor, where must rendered beAccount of all the..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Occultation Of Orion, The
I saw, as in a dream sublime,The balance in the hand of Time.O'er East and West its beam impended;And day, with all its hours of light,Was slowly..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O Ship Of State
Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State!Sail on, O Union, strong and great!Humanity with all its fears,With all the hopes of future years,Is hanging..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Nuremberg
In the valley of the Pegnitz, where across broad meadow-landsRise the blue Franconian mountains, Nuremberg, the ancient,stands.Quaint old town of..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Nature
As a fond mother, when the day is o'er,Leads by the hand her little child to bed,Half willing, half reluctant to be led,And leave his broken..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
My Secret. (From The French Of Felix Arvers)
My soul its secret hath, my life too hath its mystery,A love eternal in a moment's space conceived;Hopeless the evil is, I have not told its..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
My Lost Youth
Often I think of the beautiful townThat is seated by the sea;Often in thought go up and downThe pleasant streets of that dear old town,And my youth..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
My Books
Sadly as some old mediaeval knightGazed at the arms he could no longer wield,The sword two-handed and the shining shieldSuspended in the hall, and..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Musings
I sat by my window one night,And watched how the stars grew high;And the earth and skies were a splendid sightTo a sober and musing eye.From heaven..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Mr. Finney's Turnip
Mr. Finney had a turnip,And it grew, and it grew,And it grew behind the barn,And the turnip did no harm.And it grew, and it grew,Till it could grow..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Morituri Salutamus: Poem For The Fiftieth Anniversary
Tempora labuntur, tacitisque senescimus annis,Et fugiunt freno non remorante dies.Ovid, Fastorum, Lib. vi.'O Cæsar, we who are about to dieSalute..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Moonlight
As a pale phantom with a lampAscends some ruin's haunted stair,So glides the moon along the dampMysterious chambers of the air.Now hidden in cloud..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Moods
Oh that a Song would sing itself to meOut of the heart of Nature, or the heartOf man, the child of Nature, not of Art,Fresh as the morning, salt as..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Monte Cassino. Terra Di Lavoro. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Fourth)
Beautiful valley! through whose verdant meadsUnheard the Garigliano glides along;--The Liris, nurse of rushes and of reeds,The river taciturn of..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Milton
I pace the sounding sea-beach and beholdHow the voluminous billows roll and run,Upheaving and subsiding, while the sunShines through their sheeted..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Midnight Mass For The Dying Year
Yes, the Year is growing old,And his eye is pale and bleared!Death, with frosty hand and cold,Plucks the old man by the beard,Sorely, sorely!The..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Mezzo Cammin
Half of my life is gone, and I have letThe years slip from me and have not fulfilledThe aspiration of my youth, to buildSome tower of song with lofty..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Memories
Oft I remember those I have knownIn other days, to whom my heart was leadAs by a magnet, and who are not dead,But absent, and their memories..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Maidenhood
Maiden! with the meek, brown eyes,In whose orbs a shadow liesLike the dusk in evening skies!Thou whose locks outshine the sun,Golden tresses..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Mad River, In The White Mountains
TRAVELLERWhy dost thou wildly rush and roar,Mad River, O Mad River?Wilt thou not pause and cease to pourThy hurrying, headlong waters o'erThis rocky..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow