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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Førstelinjer
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(1807–82)
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A
A will benign, in which reveals itself
A wind came up out of the sea
A youth, light-hearted and content
Abreast, like oxen going in a yoke
Absorbed in his delight, that contemplator
Adjidau’mo, the red squirrel
After that Constantine the eagle turned
After the gracious and glad salutations
After the truth against the present life
Already had the sun the horizon reached
Already on my Lady’s face mine eyes
Already was the Angel left behind us
Already was the flame erect and quiet
An end had put unto his reasoning
Appeared before me with its wings outspread
As came to Clymene, to be made certain
As much as ’twixt the close of the third hour
As unto the bow the cord is
As when he vibrates forth his earliest rays
At the conclusion of his words, the thief
At the return of consciousness, that closed
At what time both the children of Latona
B
Beautiful Clemence, after that thy Charles
Because the charity of my native place
Behold the monster with the pointed tail
Beside the ungathered rice he lay
Between two viands, equally removed
Blind Bartimeus at the gates
Broke the deep lethargy within my head
By the shore of Gitche Gumee
C
Can it be the sun descending
D
Darkness of hell, and of a night deprived
Day was departing, and the embrowned air
Deus venerunt gentes, alternating
Downward through the evening twilight
E
Eager already to search in and round
Even as a bird, ’mid the beloved leaves
F
Far and wide among the nations
Filled is Life’s goblet to the brim
Forth from the curtain of clouds, from the tent of purple and scarlet
Forth upon the Gitche Gumee
From bridge to bridge thus, speaking other things
From centre unto rim, from rim to centre
Full of wrath was Hiawatha
G
Give me of your bark, O Birch-tree!
Glory be to the Father, to the Son
H
His mouth uplifted from his grim repast
Honor be to Mudjekeewis!
How strange the sculptures that adorn these towers!
I
I enter, and I see thee in the gloom
I had already from those shades departed
I have erewhile seen horsemen moving camp
I have read, in some old, marvellous tale
I heard the trailing garments of the Night
I Lift mine eyes, and all the windows blaze
I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls
I say, continuing, that long before
I shot an arrow into the air
I stood on the bridge at midnight
If e’er it happen that the Poem Sacred
If I had rhymes both rough and stridulous
If in the heat of love I flame upon thee
Ill strives the will against a better will
In fashion then as of a snow-white rose
In his lodge beside a river
In that part of the youthful year wherein
In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of the Pilgrims
In those days said Hiawatha
In those days the Evil Spirits
Inasmuch as the instantaneous flight
Into the open air John Alden, perplexed and bewildered
Into the Silent Land!
[Song of the Silent Land]
Into the Silent Land!
[The Castle by the Sea]
It was the hour when the diurnal heat
It was the schooner Hesperus
J
Just in the gray of the dawn, as the mists uprose from the meadows
K
King Christian stood by the lofty mast
[King Christian]
King Christian stood by the lofty mast
[King Christian]
L
Let him imagine, who would well conceive
Lo! in the painted oriel of the West
Looking into his Son with all the Love
M
Maiden! with the meek, brown eyes
Meanwhile the stalwart Miles Standish was marching steadily northward
Midway upon the journey of our life
Month after month passed away, and in Autumn the ships of the merchants
N
Never stoops the soaring vulture
Nor speech the going, nor the going that
Not yet had Nessus reached the other side
Nothing was heard in the room but the hurrying pen of the stripling
Now bears us onward one of the hard margins
Now onward goes, along a narrow path
Now was alone rejoicing in its word
Now was I where was heard the reverberation
Now was it the ascent no hindrance brooked
O
O company elect to the great supper
O Simon Magus, O forlorn disciples
O star of morning and of liberty!
O Thou insensate care of mortal men
O thou our poor nobility of blood
O thou who art beyond the sacred river
O Ye, who in some pretty little boat
O’er all the hilltops
Of a new pain behoves me to make verses
Of Edenhall, the youthful Lord
Oft have I seen at some cathedral door
Oh the long and dreary Winter!
On the Mountains of the Prairie
On the shores of Gitche Gumee
One and the selfsame tongue first wounded me
Oppressed with stupor, I unto my guide
Osanna sanctus Deus Sabaoth
Our Father, thou who dwellest in the heavens
Out of childhood into manhood
P
Pape Satan, Pape Satan, Aleppe!
Pentecost, day of rejoicing, had come. The
Perchance six thousand miles remote from us
Pleasant it was, when woods were green
R
Rejoice, O Florence, since thou art so great
Remember, Reader, if e’er in the Alps
River! that in silence windest
S
Should you ask me
Silent, alone, and without company
Sing, O Song of Hiawatha
Singing like unto an enamoured lady
Sir Oluf he rideth over the plain
So steadfast and attentive were mine eyes
So the strong will prevailed, and Alden went on his errand
Somewhat back from the village street
Soon as the blessed flame had taken up
Spake full well, in language quaint and olden
Speak! speak I thou fearful guest
T
Take them, O Death! and bear away
Tell me not, in mournful numbers
That hue which cowardice brought out on me
That Sun, which erst with love my bosom warmed
The concubine of old Tithonus now
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary
The day is done, and the darkness
The glory of Him who moveth everything
The many people and the divers wounds
The natural thirst, that ne’er is satisfied
The night is come, but not too soon
The old house by the lindens
The place where to descend the bank we came
The rising moon has hid the stars
The shades of night were falling fast
The sun is bright,—the air is clear
The twilight is sad and cloudy
The while among the verdant leaves mine eyes
The world used in its peril to believe
There is a place in Hell called Malebolge
There is a Reaper, whose name is Death
There was a time when I was very small
This is the place. Stand still, my steed
Thou that from the heavens art
Thou Virgin Mother, daughter of thy Son
Through me the way is to the city dolent
Thus for a while he stood, and mused by the shore of the ocean
Thus I descended out of the first circle
To run o’er better waters hoists its sail
Twas at the time when Juno was enraged
Twas now the hour that turneth back desire
Two good friends had Hiawatha
U
Under a spreading chestnut-tree
Upon the margin of a lofty bank
V
Vexilla Regis prodeunt Inferni
W
We were upon the summit of the stairs
When he who all the world illuminates
When the hours of Day are numbered
When the Septentrion of the highest heaven
When we had crossed the threshold of the door
Whene’er is broken up the game of Zara
Whenever by delight or else by pain
While I was doubting for my vision quenched
While on the brink thus one before the other
Who ever could, e’en with untrammelled words
Who is this one that goes about our mountain
With snow-white veil, and garments as of flame
Y
Yes, the Year is growing old
You shall hear how Hiawatha
You shall hear how Pau-Puk-Keewis
[Hiawatha’s Wedding-Feast]
You shall hear how Pau-Puk-Keewis
[Pau-Puk-Keewis]