Ultima Thule: Dedication to G. W. G.
With favoring winds, o'er sunlit seas,
We sailed for the Hesperides,
The land where golden apples grow;
But that, ah! that was long ago.
How far, since then, the ocean streams
Have swept us from that land of dreams,
That land of fiction and of truth,
The lost Atlantis of our youth!
Whither, ah, whither? Are not these
The tempest-haunted Orcades,
Where sea-gulls scream, and breakers roar,
And wreck and sea-weed line the shore?
Ultima Thule! Utmost Isle!
Here in thy harbors for a while
We lower our sails; a while we rest
From the unending, endless quest.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Vous avez aimé cette poésie ? faites la connaître !
D'autres poésies de Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The Bridge
I stood on the bridge at midnight,
As the clocks were...
The Belfrey of Bruges
In the market-place of Bruges stands the belfrey old and brown;...
The Arsenal at Springfield
This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling,
Like a huge...
The Arrow and the Song
I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not...
Thangbrand the Priest
Short of stature, large of limb,
Burly face and russet...
Tegner's Drapa
Heard a voice, that cried,
"Balder the Beautiful
Is...
Sunrise on the Hills
I stood upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch
Was...
Sundown
The summer sun is sinking low;
Only the tree-tops redden...
St. John's, Cambridge
I stand beneath the tree, whose branches shade
Thy western...
Spirit of Poetry, The
There is a quiet spirit in these woods,
That dwells...
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...
