The Quadroon Girl
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
The Slaver in the broad lagoon Lay moored with idle sail; He waited for the rising moon, And for the evening gale. Under the shore his boat was tied, And all her listless crew Watched the gray alligator slide Into the still bayou. Odors of orange-flowers, and spice, Reached them from time to time, Like airs that breathe from Paradise Upon a world of crime. The Planter, under his roof of thatch, Smoked thoughtfully and slow; The Slaver's thumb was on the latch, He seemed in haste to go. He said, "My ship at anchor rides In yonder broad lagoon; I only wait the evening tides, And the rising of the moon. Before them, with her face upraised, In timid attitude, Like one half curious, half amazed, A Quadroon maiden stood. Her eyes were large, and full of light, Her arms and neck were bare; No garment she wore save a kirtle bright, And her own long, raven hair. And on her lips there played a smile As holy, meek, and faint, As lights in some cathedral aisle The features of a saint. "The soil is barren,--the farm is old"; The thoughtful planter said; Then looked upon the Slaver's gold, And then upon the maid. His heart within him was at strife With such accursed gains: For he knew whose passions gave her life, Whose blood ran in her veins. But the voice of nature was too weak; He took the glittering gold! Then pale as death grew the maiden's cheek, Her hands as icy cold. The Slaver led her from the door, He led her by the hand, To be his slave and paramour In a strange and distant land!