Good Part, That Shall Not Be Taken Away, The
She dwells by Great Kenhawa's side,
In valleys green and cool;
And all her hope and all her pride
Are in the village school.
Her soul, like the transparent air
That robes the hills above,
Though not of earth, encircles there
All things with arms of love.
And thus she walks among her girls
With praise and mild rebukes;
Subduing e'en rude village churls
By her angelic looks.
She reads to them at eventide
Of One who came to save;
To cast the captive's chains aside
And liberate the slave.
And oft the blessed time foretells
When all men shall be free;
And musical, as silver bells,
Their falling chains shall be.
And following her beloved Lord,
In decent poverty,
She makes her life one sweet record
And deed of charity.
For she was rich, and gave up all
To break the iron bands
Of those who waited in her hall,
And labored in her lands.
Long since beyond the Southern Sea
Their outbound sails have sped,
While she, in meek humility,
Now earns her daily bread.
It is their prayers, which never cease,
That clothe her with such grace;
Their blessing is the light of peace
That shines upon her face.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Vous avez aimé cette poésie ? faites la connaître !
D'autres poésies de Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Good Part, That Shall Not Be Taken Away, The
She dwells by Great Kenhawa's side,
In valleys green and...
God's-Acre
I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls
The...
Goblet of Life, The
Filled is Life's goblet to the brim;
And though my eyes...
Ghosts, The
Never stoops the soaring vulture
On his quarry in the...
A Gleam of Sunshine
This is the place. Stand still, my steed,
Let me review...
A Psalm of Life
Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty...
Aftermath
When the summer fields are mown,
When the birds...
Afternoon in February
The day is ending,
The night is descending;
The marsh...
An April Day
When the warm sun, that brings
Seed-time and harvest, has...
Arrow and the Song, The
I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not...
Précédentes poésies
Words of Comfort to Be Scratched on a Mirror
Helen of Troy had a wandering glance;
Sappho's restriction...
Wisdom
This I say, and this I know:
Love has seen the last of...
Walter Savage Landor
Upon the work of Walter Landor
I am unfit to write with...
Wail
Love has gone a-rocketing.
That is not the worst;
I...
Victoria
Dear dead Victoria
Rotted cosily;
In excelsis...
