Best Longfellow Poems

Was it the Longfellow Bridge? Massachusetts?
One night we crossed a bridge on foot,
Dominique, my travel friend this summer 1989,
And seated we contemplated Boston at night,
Summer was hot, the city friendly and joyful,
We talked two hours about this new country,
The lights of Boston were full of...

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Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Death is but an empty grave,
And the soul dies in that slumber,
Which will rot its bones away.

Death is merely but a passage,
No, the grave is not its goal;
Beyond the boundaries of age
Hearst you true words of the soul.

'Tis enjoyment and...

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Faithfully, THE TIDE RISES THE TIDE FALLS
Water sustains life; pulsing evermore.
A GLEAM OF SUNSHINE forever enthralls.
Golden lights brighten beyond the shore.

A PSALM OF LIFE repeats its vibrant calls.
Come; follow me along love’s corridor.
THE FIRE OF DRIFTWOOD upon dreams befalls.
Hope dances upon the darkening shore.

FOOTSTEPS OF...

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In his chest, his heart to bare.
All the pain and sorrow there.
   
Fire! Fire!  Everywhere!
Screaming! Crying! In despair.
   
Vailiantly dashing the flames he chased.
The fire melting his loves life, cotton and lace.
        ...

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Doth it not thrill thee, Poet,
Dead and dust though thy art,
To feel how I press thy singing
Close to my heart?

By Richard Le Gallienne
(The Passionate Reader to His Poet)

Mama had a purple leather book
Of  Henry Longfellow’s poetry.
She let me read it if I was careful,
And...

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Just 'fore words formed inside my head 
as my mother put me to bed
her sweet voice would rhyme to lull me
tales of children wild and misled.

Who ran and played and sang and danced
deep in teepees as in a trance.
Or climbing atop the walls of castles
dueled...

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LONGFELLOW -Angler's Song




                                          ...

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LONGFELLOW POETS CALENDAR


   [jan TO] [feb BE] [mar OR] [apr NOT][may TO] [jun BE]
   [jul THAT][aug IS][sep MY][oct REQUEST][nov OF][dec THEE]...

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Prune word and line to fix fine verse,
Opt for good feel where reason rhymes;
Express thought fine as you observe,
Tint form and will all in good time.
Loiter with proof where practice lifts,
Outline the good where passion hurls;
Nurture the truth that frees bold gifts,
Grace cites fine moods...

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Gangly Longfellow walled in Thoreau and thru...

Well stocked with
wordsworth lxiii numbered yesteryear
born as predicted by
bubba's zayda longtime seer
while in utero premier
ultrasound detected
smudged embryonic fetus
whoosh auditory proto language unclear
surprisingly enough sounded analogous
to murmuring... huh yepper sonneteer
vaguely resembling, yes

William Shakespeare
though burbling, gurgling,
requiring absolute zero noise to hear
kickstarting,...

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I'm at work in the village market, sky of lapis, lawn of jade, 
Near the stump of the ancient chestnut where my grandpa learned his trade. 
I could close my eyes and still enjoy the view 
With a friend like you.

Gotta say I'm uncertain whether...

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Gangly longfellow thoreau and thru...

Well stocked with
wordsworth lx numbered yesteryear
born as predicted by
bubba's zayda longtime seer.

While in utero premier
ultrasound detected
smudged embryonic fetus
whoosh auditory proto language unclear
surprisingly enough sounded analogous

to murmuring... huh yepper sonneteer
vaguely resembling, yes
William Shakespeare
though burbling, gurgling,
requiring absolute zero noise to hear
kickstarting, reverently warbling

difficult,...

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Longfellow Deeds
From
Winchestertonfieldville
Iowa
Wrote throw away poems for Hallmark Cards
In search of laughs

But H.W. Longfellow
Spoke in linguistic Espagna
Of his body craving Sergovia
And of a soul forged in Madrid
Set to a soundtrack of Castanet 

An inquisition of state
Lapping at the beating shores of the Mediterranean
Searching for a New...

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The Raven and the Bard
-Daniel Henry Rodgers

The Raven's quill drips shades of blackest night,
Its haunting words, a melody of fright.
The Bard's natural lines, like "Evangeline's" fair hair,
Shed history's warm light to chase away all care .
From shadowed chambers where dark ravens shriek,
To hearthside tales that...

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My aunt was a weirdo: she talked to trees, walked around the house naked and used to read me “The Metamorphoses” by Ovid and “The Song of Hiawatha” by Longfellow as a bedtime story. “Oom-ta-ta, oom-ta-ta”, - dactyl waltzed, pages rustled and I came down...

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