  Poetry
This week: Edited by: Stormy Lady  
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This is poetry from the minds and the hearts of poets on Writing.Com. The poems I am going to be exposing throughout this newsletter are ones that I have found to be, very visual, mood setting and uniquely done. Stormy Lady
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| ASIN: B083RZ37SZ |
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The Rainy Day by
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering 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 mouldering 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.
The Poets
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O ye dead Poets, who are living still
Immortal in your verse, though life be fled,
And ye, O living Poets, who are dead
Though ye are living, if neglect can kill,
Tell me if in the darkest hours of ill,
With drops of anguish falling fast and red
From the sharp crown of thorns upon your head
Ye were not glad your errand to fulfill?
Yes; for the gift and ministry of Song
Have something in them so divinely sweet,
It can assuage the bitterness of wrong;
Not in the clamour of the crowded street,
Not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng,
But in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.
On February 27, 1807 Stephen Longfellow and Zilpah Wadsworth Longfellow, welcomed son Henry Wadsworth Longfellow into their family. He was their second son of eight children. Longfellow's family lived in Portland Maine. By a young age it was obvious that Longfellow was a very intelligent boy. His father a lawyer and congressman, had the money to give all of his children the best education offered. Longfellow started Bowdoin College at fourteen and graduated four years later.
Longfellow's father had hoped his son would pursue a career in law like he had but Longfellow was more interested in languages and his writing. Longfellow was offered a professorships of modern languages at the college upon his graduation. He excepted this job offer only if he could first travel to visit the other countries he would be teaching about. In May of 1826 he set off for Europe. He visited Germany, Italy, France and England before heading back to Bowdoin College in 1829. He was a professor at the college for the next six years.
Longfellow married Mary Storer Potter on September 14, 1831, one year after his return from England. He had known Mary from his school days. There years later in 1834, he was appointed a professorship at Harvard and once again he set offer to England to gather more materials for his new position. This trip how ever would have a very tragic ending, only a few short weeks after having a miscarriage his wife Mary died at the age of 22. When Longfellow arrived in Cambridge, Massachusetts he took a room at the Craigie House, which overlook the Charles River. "Ballads, and Other Poems" was published in 1841, and "Poems on Slavery" in 1843.
It would be seven years after Mary died before Longfellow would marry again. On July 13, 1843, he married Frances Appleton. The Craigie House was given to them as a wedding gift. Henry and Frances had two boys, Charles and Ernest and four girls Alice Mary, Edith, Anne Allegra and Fanny, who died one year after birth. Henry published five pieces over the first three years of his marriage. "The Spanish Student," was published in 1845. "Poets and Poetry of Europe" in 1846, "The Belfry of Bruges" in 1847 and "Evangeline" in 1849 also that same year "Kavanaugh." "The Seaside and the Fireside," was published in 1851.
Longfellow loved teaching but he was starting to think it was interfering with his writing and in 1854, Longfellow left Harvard to focus on it. The fallowing year he published "The Song of Hiawatha." "The Courtship of Miles Standish" was published in 1858 and "The Golden Legend" in 1859. Longfellow's second wife Frances died on July 9, 1861. She was melting wax and caught her dress on fire. Longfellow tried to put it out and received burns on his hands and face. His facial scars from the day made it to difficult for him to shave, so Longfellow ended up growing a bread.
Longfellow continued writing after Frances died, he dove right in on a translation of Dante. Where many other men would had drowned in sorrow over their losses, Longfellow wrote. "The Divine Tragedy," an unsuccessful drama was published in 1872, "Three Books of Songs" in 1874, "Hanging of the Crane" in 1875, "The Masque of Pandora" in 1878. During these years of writing Longfellow was given honorary degrees from Oxford and Cambridge. He was also invited to Windsor by Queen Victoria and was chosen to be a member of the Russian Academy of Science. Longfellow died on March 24, 1882 in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
The Day is Done
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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.
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:
A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.
Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.
For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life's endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.
Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;
Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.
Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.
Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.
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.
Thank you all!
Stormy Lady
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The winner of "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" [ASR] is:
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#1218662 by Not Available. |
The sound of a dove passing overhead,
As I lay on a meadow like a worn bed,
The wind wrestling with my cotton shirt,
My body sprawled out on the cold dirt,
A tree above shading me from the sun
As a pale river nearby gently runs,
And the sweet flowers dance so fair
Through the white bits of snow in the cool air,
The green of grass echoing in my eyes,
Playful crickets filling my ears with their sighs,
The charm on my necklace rolling to the ground,
Winter passing into Spring,
This is the sound.
Honorable mentions:
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#1220556 by Not Available. |
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These are the rules:
1) You must use the words I give in a poem.
2) They can be in any order and anywhere throughout the poem.
3) All entries must be posted in your portfolio and you must post the link in this forum "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" [ASR] by April 6, 2007.
4) The winner will get 3000 gift points and the poem will be displayed in this section of the newsletter the next time it is my turn to post. (April 12, 2007)
The words are:
scattered young quivering dream empty weaver departed eternity
 Good luck to all
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|  | I Remember When (ASR)
A poem written for Countrymom's Senior Center Forum's Remember When poetry contest.
#1229806 by Harry  |
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Poetry: March 14, 2007 Issue [#1596]
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