Poems by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

On sunny slope and beechen swell,
The shadowed light of evening fell;
And, where the maple's...

In the ancient town of Bruges,
In the quaint old Flemish city,
As the evening shades descende...

I. Solemnly, mournfully,
Dealing its dole,
The Curfew Bell
Is beginning to toll. C...

Tuscan, that wanderest through the realms of gloom,
With thoughtful pace, and sad, majestic ...

The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downw...

INSCRIPTION FOR AN ANTIQUE PITCHER Come, old friend! Sit down and listen!
From the pitcher, p...

The rising moon has hid the stars;
Her level rays, like golden bars,
Lie on the landscape gr...

Lo! In the painted oriel of the West,
Whose panes the sunken sun incarnadines,
Like a fair ...

Just above yon sandy bar,
As the day grows fainter and dimmer,
Lonely and lovely, a single s...

The shades of night were falling fast,
As through an Alpine village passed
A youth, who bore,...

We sat within the farm-house old,
Whose windows, looking o'er the bay,
Gave to the sea-breez...

When the hours of Day are numbered,
And the voices of the Night
Wake the better soul, that sl...

The night is come, but not too soon;
And sinking silently,
All silently, the little moon
D...

The rocky ledge runs far into the sea,
And on its outer point, some miles away,
The Lighthou...

Witlaf, a king of the Saxons,
Ere yet his last he breathed,
To the merry monks of Croyland
...