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 ...
Where's the lamp that Hero lit Once to call Leander home? Equal Time hath shovelled it 'Neath the wrack of ...
ENDYMION. A Poetic Romance. "THE STRETCHED METRE OF AN AN ANTIQUE SONG." INSCRIBED TO THE MEMORY OF THOMAS CHATTERTON. Book ...
In Ionia whence sprang old poets' fame, From whom that sea did first derive her name, The blessed bed whereon ...
To the Vestals Those priests which first the Vestal fire begun, Which might be borrow'd from no earthly flame, Devis'd ...
Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies, Made in the last promotion of the Blest; Whose palms, new pluck'd from Paradise, ...
Consecrated to the Glorious Memory of His Most Serene and Renowned Highness, Oliver, Late Lord Protector of This Commonwealth, etc. ...
To the Pious Memory of the Accomplished Young Lady, Mrs Anne Killigrew, Excellent in the Two Sister-arts of Poesy and ...
When by thy scorn, O murd'ress, I am dead, And that thou think'st thee free From all solicitation from me, ...
Come, my darling, let us dance To the moon that beckons us To dissolve our love in trance Heedless of ...
Come, my darling, let us dance To the moon that beckons us To dissolve our love in trance Heedless of ...
My folks think I'm a serving maid Each time I visit home; They do not dream I ply a trade ...
High, on the Solitude of Alpine Hills, O'er-topping the grand imag'ry of Nature, Where one eternal winter seem'd to reign; ...
SWEET blushing Nymph, who loves to dwell In the dark forest's silent gloom; Who smiles within ...
In these deep solitudes and awful cells, Where heav'nly-pensive contemplation dwells, And ever-musing melancholy reigns; What means this tumult in ...
Why, having won her, do I woo? Because her spirit's vestal grace Provokes me always to pursue, But, spirit-like, eludes ...
Oh! weep for the hour, When to Eveleen's bower, The Lord of the Valley with false vows came; The moon ...
Oh! doubt me not -- the season Is o'er when Folly made me rove, And now the vestal, Reason, Shall ...
Holland, that scarce deserves the name of Land, As but th'Off-scouring of the Brittish Sand; And so much Earth as ...
Not even my pride shall suffer much; Not even my pride at all, maybe, If this ill-timed, intemperate clutch Be ...
O thou that swing'st upon the waving ear Of some well-filled oaten beard, Drunk ev'ry night with a delicious tear ...
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