The Beleaguered City (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poem)
I have read, in some old, marvellous tale, Some legend strange and vague, That a midnight host of spectres pale ...
I have read, in some old, marvellous tale, Some legend strange and vague, That a midnight host of spectres pale ...
Listen my children and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in ...
The shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ...
I I saw a dead man's finer part Shining within each faithful heart Of those bereft. Then said I: "This ...
We two kept house, the Past and I, The Past and I; I tended while it hovered nigh, Leaving me ...
For Carl Solomon I I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves ...
Further in Summer than the Birds Pathetic from the Grass A minor Nation celebrates Its unobtrusive Mass. No Ordinance be ...
I've quenched my lamp, I struck it in that start Which every limb convulsed, I heard it fall The crash ...
Through Alpine meadows soft-suffused With rain, where thick the crocus blows, Past the dark forges long disused, The mule-track from ...
Hic. On the grey sand beside the shallow stream Under your old wind-beaten tower, where still A lamp burns on ...
O Mother Earth! upon thy lap Thy weary ones receiving, And o'er them, silent as a dream, Thy grassy mantle ...
To the Memory of the Household It Describes This Poem is Dedicated by the Author "As the Spirit of Darkness ...
Twitched strings, the clang of metal, beaten drums, Dull, shrill, continuous, disquieting: And now the stealthy dancer comes Undulantly with ...
Gold! We leapt from our benches. Gold! We sprang from our stools. Gold! We wheeled in the furrow, fired with ...
Earth, Ocean, Air, belovèd brotherhood! If our great Mother has imbued my soul With aught of natural piety to feel ...
ROSALIND, HELEN, and her Child. SCENE. The Shore of the Lake of Como. HELEN Come hither, my sweet Rosalind. 'T ...
-- I am a gentleman in a dustcoat trying To make you hear. Your ears are soft and small And ...
From my rented attic with no earth To call my own except the air-motes, I malign the leaden perspective Of ...
So sweet the hour, so calm the time, I feel it more than half a crime, When Nature sleeps and ...
At four o'clock in late October I sat alone in the country school-house Back from the road 'mid stricken fields, ...
If the shoe fell from the other foot who would hear? If the door opened onto a pure darkness and ...
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