Burial of the Minnisink
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Afternoon in February
An April Day
The Arrow and the Song
The Arsenal at Springfield
Autumn
Autumn Within
The Beleaguered City
The Belfry of Bruges
Birds Of Passage
Blind Bartimeus
The Bridge
Burial of the Minnisink
Carillon
Changed
Children
The Children's Hour
The Courtship of Miles Standish
Curfew
Dante
Day is Done
Drinking Song
Endymion
Evangeline: A Tale of Acadie
The Evening Star
Excelsior
Fata Morgana
Flowers
Footsteps of Angels
A Gleam of Sunshine
Goblet of Life
God's Acre
The Good Part, That Shall Not be Taken Away
Hymn of the Moravian Nuns of Bethlehem at the Consecration of Pulaski's Banner
Hymn to the Night
It Is Not Always May
L'Envoi
The Ladder of St. Augustine
The Light of Stars
Loss And Gain
Maidenhood
Mezzo Cammin
Midnight Mass for the Dying Year
My Lost Youth
Nature
The Norman Baron
Nuremburg
The Occultation of Orion
The Old Clock on the Stairs
Paul Revere's Ride
A Psalm of Life
The Quadroon Girl
Rain in Summer
The Rainy Day
The Reaper and the Flowers
The Republic
The Skeleton in Armor
The Slave In the Dismal Swamp
The Slave Singing at Midnight
The Slave's Dream
Snow-Flakes
The Song of Hiawatha
The Sound Of The Sea
Spirit of Poetry
St. John's, Cambridge
Sunrise on the Hills
The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls
To a Child
To an Old Danish Song-Book
To the Driving Cloud
To the River Charles
To William E. Channing
Village Blacksmith
Voices Of the Night
Walter Von Der Vogel Weid
The Warning
The Witnesses
Woods in Winter
Wreck of the Hesperus
On sunny slope and beechen swell, The shadowed light of evening fell; And, where the maple's leaf was brown, With soft and silent lapse came down, The glory, that the wood receives, At sunset, in its golden leaves. Far upward in the mellow light Rose the blue hills. One cloud of white, Around a far uplifted cone, In the warm blush of evening shone; An image of the silver lakes, By which the Indian's soul awakes. But soon a funeral hymn was heard Where the soft breath of evening stirred The tall, gray forest; and a band Of stern in heart, and strong in hand, Came winding down beside the wave, To lay the red chief in his grave. They sang, that by his native bowers He stood, in the last moon of flowers, And thirty snows had not yet shed Their glory on the warrior's head; But, as the summer fruit decays, So died he in those naked days. A dark cloak of the roebuck's skin Covered the warrior, and within Its heavy folds the weapons, made For the hard toils of war, were laid; The cuirass, woven of plaited reeds, And the broad belt of shells and beads. Before, a dark-haired virgin train Chanted the death dirge of the slain; Behind, the long procession came Of hoary men and chiefs of fame, With heavy hearts, and eyes of grief, Leading the war-horse of their chief. Stripped of his proud and martial dress, Uncurbed, unreined, and riderless, With darting eye, and nostril spread, And heavy and impatient tread, He came; and oft that eye so proud Asked for his rider in the crowd. They buried the dark chief; they freed Beside the grave his battle steed; And swift an arrow cleaved its way To his stern heart! One piercing neigh Arose, and, on the dead man's plain, The rider grasps his steed again.