Henry+Wadsworth+Longfellow+2


 * Henry was sent to Bowdoin Collage at age 14 and graduated at age 18.He studied the law for a short time with his father but soon moved to europe to study languages. In 1833 H enry established a transilation of spanish verses called "Coplas de Manrique." He lived in a house once occupied by General Washington for a long period of time.

__ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow __ Video Part 1 Video Part 2 media type="file" key="HWL Photo Story.wmv" width="300" height="300" align="left"media type="file" key="Sam's Photo Story Part 3 HWL.wmv" width="300" height="300" align="right"

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow is an American poet, educator, and linguist who was Born:February 27, 1807, in Portland, Maine. Mr. Longfellow was the second son in a family of eight children. Longfellow's Father, Stephen Longfellow, was a prominent Portland lawyer and later a member of Congress. His mother, Zilpah Wadsworth, was the daughter of a Revolutionary War hero. Longfellow graduated from Bowdoin College. After his graduation; Longfellow studied modern languages in Europe for three years, then returned to Bowdoin to teach them. In 1831 Longfellow married Mary Storer Potter of Portland. Mary Potter was Longfellow’s former classmate. Longfellow's works include "[|Paul Revere's Ride]", //[|The Song of Hiawatha]//, and //[|Evangeline]//. He was also the first American to translate [|Dante Alighieri's] //[|The Divine Comedy]// and was one of the five [|Fireside Poets].  Longfellow Died: March 24,1882,in Cambridge, Massachusetts.


 * [[image:http://planetgreen.discovery.com/games-quizzes/environmental-history-earthday-quiz/2-henry-longfellow.jpg align="center" caption="Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)"]] ||
 * Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) ||

__Some Famous poems by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow__ The Village Blacksmith Under a spreading chestnut-tree The village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands. His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man. Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell, When the evening sun is low. And children coming home from school Look in at the open door; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor. He goes on Sunday to the church, And sits among his boys; He hears the parson pray and preach, He hears his daughter's voice, Singing in the village choir, And it makes his heart rejoice. It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies; And with his haul, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes. Toiling,--rejoicing,--sorrowing, Onward through life he goes; Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose. Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, For the lesson thou hast taught! Thus at the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought.

The Rainy Day The day is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary; The vine still clings to the moldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary. My life is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary; My thoughts still cling to the moldering Past, But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast And the days are dark and dreary. Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.

<span style="color: #db2e38; font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 16px;">Footsteps of Angels When the hours of Day are numbered, And the voices of the Night Wake the better soul, that slumbered, To a holy, calm delight; Ere the evening lamps are lighted, And, like phantoms grim and tall, Shadows from the fitful firelight Dance upon the parlor wall; Then the forms of the departed Enter at the open door; The beloved, the true-hearted, Come to visit me once more; He, the young and strong, who cherished Noble longings for the strife, By the roadside fell and perished, Weary with the march of life! They, the holy ones and weakly, Who the cross of suffering bore, Folded their pale hands so meekly, Spake with us on earth no more! And with them the Being Beauteous, Who unto my youth was given, More than all things else to love me, And is now a saint in heaven. With a slow and noiseless footstep Comes that messenger divine, Takes the vacant chair beside me, Lays her gentle hand in mine. And she sits and gazes at me With those deep and tender eyes, Like the stars, so still and saint-like, Looking downward from the skies. Uttered not, yet comprehended, Is the spirit's voiceless prayer, Soft rebukes, in blessings ended, Breathing from her lips of air. Oh, though oft depressed and lonely, All my fears are laid aside, If I but remember only Such as these have lived and died!

<span style="color: #d12424; font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 16px;">The Day is Done <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me That my soul cannot resist: <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">Come, read to me some poem, Some simple and heartfelt lay, That shall soothe this restless feeling, And banish the thoughts of day. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">Not from the grand old masters, Not from the bards sublime, Whose distant footsteps echo Through the corridors of Time. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">For, like strains of martial music, Their mighty thoughts suggest Life's endless toil and endeavor; And to-night I long for rest. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">Read from some humbler poet, Whose songs gushed from his heart, As showers from the clouds of summer, Or tears from the eyelids start; <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">Who, through long days of labor, And nights devoid of ease, Still heard in his soul the music Of wonderful melodies. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">And the night shall be filled with music And the cares, that infest the day, Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, And as silently steal away. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 16px;">TO VIEW PAUL REVERES RIDE CLICK HERE! []

<span style="display: block; font-family: georgia,serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">__ Some Famous Quote by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow __ <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">"A single conversation across the table with a wise man is better than ten years mere study of books." <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">"A thought often makes us hotter than a fire." <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">"A torn jacket is soon mended; but hard words bruise the heart of a child." <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">"Ah! what would the world be to us If the children were no more? We should dread the desert behind us Worse than the dark before." <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">"All things come round to him who will but wait." <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">"All things must change to something new, to something strange." <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">"Ambition is so powerful a passion in the human breast, that however high we reach we are never satisfied." <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">"And yet not turn your back upon the world." <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">"Build today, then strong and sure, With a firm and ample base; And ascending and secure. Shall tomorrow find its place." <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">"Critics are sentinels in the grand army of letters, stationed at the corners of newspapers and reviews, to challenge every new author." <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">"Doubtless criticism was originally benignant, pointing out the beauties of a work rather that its defects. The passions of men have made it malignant, as a bad heart of Procreates turned the bed, the symbol of repose, into an instrument of torture." <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">"Each morning sees some task begun, each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done, has earned a night's repose." <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">"Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad." <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">"Fame comes only when deserved, and then is as inevitable as destiny, for it is destiny." <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">"For age is opportunity no less Than youth itself, though in another dress, And as the evening twilight fades away The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day." <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">"For his heart was in his work, and the heart giveth grace unto every art." <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">"Give what you have to somebody, it may be better than you think." <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">"He that respects himself is safe from others. He wears a coat of mail that none can pierce." <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">"It is foolish to pretend that one is fully recovered from a disappointed passion. Such wounds always leave a scar." <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">"It takes less time to do a thing right, than it does to explain why you did it wrong." <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">"Joy, temperance, and repose, slam the door on the doctor's nose." <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 13px;">"Know how sublime a thing is to suffer and be strong."

<span style="background-color: #000000; color: #00ff00; display: block; font-family: georgia,serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;">__LOOK UP THESE SITES FOR MORE INFO. ON HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW__ Images Public Domain Images,. "Henry longfellow."//U.S. History Images//.Public Domain Images,2011. Web. 8 Dec 2011. <[]> Web Site 1 Academy of American Poets,Rabe, Roberto. "Biography ." //Henry Wadsworth Longfellow//.IP2Map, <span style="display: block; font-family: georgia,serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: center;">4-25-2011.Web. 7 Dec 2011.<http://eclecticesoterica.com/longfellow.html>. <span style="color: #ff7b00; display: block; font-family: georgia,serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: center;">Web Site 2 <span style="display: block; font-family: georgia,serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: center;">Wikipedia contributors,. "Henry Wadsworth Longfellow." <span style="display: block; font-family: georgia,serif; text-align: center;">//Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia//. <span style="display: block; font-family: georgia,serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: center;">Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, 2006. Web. 9 Dec 2011.Find exact site by clicking <span style="display: block; font-family: georgia,serif; text-align: center;">[|Paul Revere's Ride], //[|The Song of Hiawatha]//, or //[|Evangeline]//.

Book Web Site First. //Henry Wadsworth Longfellow//.Chicago : Academy of American Poets, 1997. [|Go to book website: <http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/143>] <span style="color: #ff7b00; display: block; font-family: georgia,serif; text-align: center;">Poems & Quotes <span style="display: block; font-family: georgia,serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: center;">."Poems & Quotes." //Henry Wadsworth Longfellow//. Famous Poets, 2006. Web. 9 Dec 2011.[|<http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/henry_wadsworth_longfellow/poems>.]

<span style="color: #ff7b00; display: block; font-family: georgia,serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: center;">Paul Reveres Ride Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth. "Longfellow poems." //Paul Revere//. Academy of American Poets, 1999. Web. 9 Dec 2011. []