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").
By The Seaside : The Evening Star
Lo! in the paintedoriel of the West,Whose panes the sunken sun incarnadines,Like a fair lady at her casement, shinesThe evening star, the star of..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
By The Seaside : Sir Humphrey Gilbert
Southward with fleet of iceSailed the corsair Death;Wild and gast blew the blast,And the east-wind was his breath.His lordly ships of iceGlisten in..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
By The Fireside : The Singers
God sent his Singers upon earthWith songs of sadness and of mirth,That they might touch the hearts of men,And bring them back to heaven again.The..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
By The Fireside : The Open Window
The old house by the lindensStood silent in the shade,And on the gravelled pathwayThe light and shadow played.I saw the nursery windowsWide open to..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
By The Fireside : The Builders
All are architects of Fate,Working in these walls of Time;Some with massive deeds and great,Some with ornaments of rhyme.Nothing useless is, or..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
By The Fireside : Tegner's Death (Tegner's Drapa)
I heard a voice, that cried,'Balder the BeautifulIs dead, is dead!'And through the misty airPassed like the mournful cryOf sunward sailing cranes.I..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
By The Fireside : Sand Of The Desert In An HourGlass
A handful of red sand, from the hot climeOf Arab deserts brought,Within this glass becomes the spy of Time,The minister of Thought.How many weary..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
By The Fireside : Resignation
There is no flock, however watched and tended,But one dead lamb is there!There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended,But has one vacant chair!The air is..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
By The Fireside : King Witlaf's Drinking-Horn
Witlaf, a king of the Saxons,Ere yet his last he breathed,To the merry monks of CroylandHis drinking-horn bequeathed,--That, whenever they sat at..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
By The Fireside : Gaspar Becerra
By his evening fire the artistPondered o'er his secret shame;Baffled, weary, and disheartened,Still he mused, and dreamed of fame.'T was an image of..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Burial Of The Minnisink
On sunny slope and beechen swell,The shadowed light of evening fell;And, where the maple's leaf was brown,With soft and silent lapse came down,The..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Boston
St. Botolph's Town! Hither across the plainsAnd fens of Lincolnshire, in garb austere,There came a Saxon monk, and founded hereA Priory, pillaged by..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Blind Bartimeus
Blind Bartimeus at the gatesOf Jericho in darkness waits;He hears the crowd;--he hears a breathSay, "It is Christ of Nazareth!"And calls, in tones of..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Blessing The Cornfields
Sing, O Song of Hiawatha,Of the happy days that followed,In the land of the Ojibways,In the pleasant land and peaceful!Sing the mysteries of..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Blessed Are The Dead. (From The German)
O, how blest are ye whose toils are ended!Who, through death, have unto God ascended!Ye have arisenFrom the cares which keep us still in prison.We..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Birds Of Passage
Black shadows fallFrom the lindens tall,That lift aloft their massive wallAgainst the southern sky;And from the realmsOf the shadowy elmsA tide-like..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Beware! (From The German)
I know a maiden fair to see,Take care!She can both false and friendly be,Beware! Beware!Trust her not,She is fooling thee!She has two eyes, so soft..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Beowulf's Expedition To Heort
Thus then, much care-worn,The son of HealfdenSorrowed evermore,Nor might the prudent heroHis woes avert.The war was too hard,Too loath and..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Belisarius
I am poor and old and blind;The sun burns me, and the windBlows through the city gateAnd covers me with dustFrom the wheels of the augustJustinian..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Belfry Of Bruges, The
In the market-place of Bruges stands the belfry old and brown;Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded, still it watches o'er thetown.As the summer morn..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Beleaguered City, The
I have read, in some old, marvellous tale,Some legend strange and vague,That a midnight host of spectres paleBeleaguered the walls of Prague.Beside..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Beatrice. (From Dante. Purgatorio, Xxx., Xxxi.)
Even as the Blessed, at the final summons,Shall rise up quickened, each one from his grave,Wearing again the garments of the flesh,So, upon that..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Barèges. (From The French Of Lefranc De Pompignan)
I leave you, ye cold mountain chains,Dwelling of warriors stark and frore!You, may these eyes behold no more,Rave on the horizon of our..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Autumnal Nightfall
Round Autumn's mouldering urnLoud mourns the chill and cheerless gale,When nightfall shades the quiet valeAnd stars in beauty burn.'Tis the year's..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Autumn Within
It is autumn; not withoutBut within me is the cold.Youth and spring are all about;It is I that have grown old.Birds are darting through the..
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow