The Poet’s Calendar (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poems)
January Janus am I; oldest of potentates; Forward I look, and backward, and below I count, as god of avenues ...
January Janus am I; oldest of potentates; Forward I look, and backward, and below I count, as god of avenues ...
Dear child! how radiant on thy mother's knee, With merry-making eyes and jocund smiles, Thou gazest at the painted tiles, ...
I "Soul! Shall I see thy face," she said, "In one brief hour? And away with thee from a loveless ...
THE husband's dire mishap, and silly maid, In ev'ry age, have proved the fable's aid; The fertile subject never will ...
Which is the best -- the Moon or the Crescent? Neither -- said the Moon -- That is best which ...
The Pile of Years is not so high As when you came before But it is rising every Day From ...
No Crowd that has occurred Exhibit -- I suppose That General Attendance That Resurrection -- does -- Circumference be full ...
It's easy to invent a Life -- God does it -- every Day -- Creation -- but the Gambol Of ...
Milton, our noblest poet, in the grace Of youth, in those fair eyes and clustering hair, That brow untouched by ...
Love is no more. It died as the mind dies: the pure desire Relinquishing the blissful form it wore, The ...
I. THE GARDEN. ABOVE the city hung the moon, Right o'er a plot of ground Where flowers and orchard-trees were ...
How beautiful the earth is still, To thee - how full of happiness! How little fraught with real ill, Or ...
A Fragment of a Turkish Tale The tale which these disjointed fragments present, is founded upon circumstances now less common ...
Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind! Brightest in dungeons, Liberty, thou art; For there thy habitation is the heart- The ...
There's a palace in Florence, the world knows well, And a statue watches it from the square, And this story ...
There's a palace in Florence, the world knows well, And a statue watches it from the square, And this story ...
I. Said Abner, ``At last thou art come! Ere I tell, ere thou speak, ``Kiss my cheek, wish me well!'' ...
I. Oh, what a dawn of day! How the March sun feels like May! All is blue again After last ...
I That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers, And the blue eye Dear and dewy, And that infantine fresh air of hers! ...
I CALL no Goddess to inspire my strains, A fabled Muse may suit a bard that feigns: Friend of my ...
THOU ling'ring star, with lessening ray, That lov'st to greet the early morn, Again thou usher'st in the day My ...
We see it each day in the paper, And know that there's mischief in store; That some unprofessional caper Has ...
The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here. Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in I am ...
When he, who adores thee, has left but the name Of his fault and his sorrows behind, Oh! say wilt ...
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