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Hace 4 días · In the poem “Haunted Houses” the poet H.W. Longfellow wants to say that all houses are haunted houses and in saying so he is aware of the nostalgia, history and memories that live in every home.
Hace 5 días · William Cullen Bryant (1794–1878), Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882), John Greenleaf Whittier (1807–1892), Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr. (1809–1894), and James Russell Lowell (1819–1891): Just to list their triple-barrelled names is to be set again around the parlor table, playing a hand of that old Authors card game.
Hace 4 días · The Wreck Of The Hesperus. It was the schooner Hesperus. That sailed the wintry sea: And the skipper had taken his little daughter, To bear him company. Blue were her eyes as the fairy -flax, Her cheeks like the dawn of day, And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds. The ope in the month of May.
Hace 3 días · A century later, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow turned the story into a best-selling ballad called "Lady Wentworth". It appeared in 1863 in his famous collection "Tales of Wayside Inn" with the equally romanticized ballad about Paul Revere’s famous ride. But there’s a second "Lady Wentworth".
Hace 3 días · The Secret Of The Sea. Ah! what pleasant visions haunt me. As I gaze upon the sea! All the old romantic legends, All my dreams, come back to me. Sails of silk and ropes of sandal, Such as gleam in ancient lore; And the singing of the sailors, And the answer from the shore!
Hace 5 días · The Singers. God sent his Singers upon earth. With songs of sadness and of mirth, That they might touch the hearts of men, And bring them back to heaven again. The first, a youth, with soul of fire, Held in his hand a golden lyre; Through groves he wandered, and by streams, Playing the music of our dreams.
Hace 3 días · 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;
