Hiawatha’s Fishing (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poems)
Forth upon the Gitche Gumee, On the shining Big-Sea-Water, With his fishing-line of cedar, Of the twisted bark of cedar, ...
Forth upon the Gitche Gumee, On the shining Big-Sea-Water, With his fishing-line of cedar, Of the twisted bark of cedar, ...
O sweet illusions of song That tempt me everywhere, In the lonely fields, and the throng Of the crowded thoroughfare! ...
You shall hear how Pau-Puk-Keewis, How the handsome Yenadizze Danced at Hiawatha's wedding; How the gentle Chibiabos, He the sweetest ...
On the shores of Gitche Gumee, Of the shining Big-Sea-Water, Stood Nokomis, the old woman, Pointing with her finger westward, ...
On the Mountains of the Prairie, On the great Red Pipe-stone Quarry, Gitche Manito, the mighty, He the Master of ...
"Honor be to Mudjekeewis!" Cried the warriors, cried the old men, When he came in triumph homeward With the sacred ...
Out of childhood into manhood Now had grown my Hiawatha, Skilled in all the craft of hunters, Learned in all ...
By the shore of Gitche Gumee, By the shining Big-Sea-Water, At the doorway of his wigwam, In the pleasant Summer ...
Downward through the evening twilight, In the days that are forgotten, In the unremembered ages, From the full moon fell ...
We've drunk to the Queen -- God bless her! -- We've drunk to our mothers' land; We've drunk to our ...
I heard their young hearts crying Loveward above the glancing oar And heard the prairie grasses sighing: No more, return ...
Though loth to grieve The evil time's sole patriot, I cannot leave My buried thought For the priest's cant, Or ...
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery ...
O all the little rivers that run to Hudson's Bay, They call me and call me to follow them away. ...
In memory of Father Flye, 1884-1985 The strange and wonderful are too much with us. The protea of the antipodes-a ...
The little voices of the prairie dogs Are tireless . . . They will give three hurrahs Alike to stage, ...
Nature is a temple where the living pillars Let go sometimes a blurred speech- A Forest of symbols passes through ...
They tell me that your heart has been found in Iowa, pumping along Interstate 35. Do you want it back? ...
You'll rejoice at how many kinds of shit there are: gosling shit (which J. Williams said something was as green ...
In one of fhe States of America, some years ago, There suddenly came on a violent storm of snow, Which ...
After seeing at Boston the statue of Robert Gould Shaw, killed while storming Fort Wagner, July 18, 1863, at the ...
Spring and Summer, Fall and Winter and Spring, After each other drifting, past my window drifting! And I lay so ...
You never saw the spring my love Or the red tailed hawk circling high above On feathered wings my love ...
The first time I drank gin I thought it must be hair tonic. My brother swiped the bottle from a ...
I asked the old Negro, "What is that bird that sings so well?" He answered: "That is the Rachel-Jane." "Hasn't ...
Last night at black midnight I woke with a cry, The windows were shaking, there was thunder on high, The ...
A little colt - broncho, loaned to the farm To be broken in time without fury or harm, Yet black ...
Two statesmen met by moonlight. Their ease was partly feigned. They glanced about the prairie. Their faces were constrained. In ...
O you who lose the art of hope, Whose temples seem to shrine a lie, Whose sidewalks are but stones ...
Let not our town be large, remembering That little Athens was the Muses' home, That Oxford rules the heart of ...
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