Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

What else remains for me?
Youth, hope and love;
To build a new life on a ruined read more

What else remains for me?
Youth, hope and love;
To build a new life on a ruined life.

A solid man of Boston;
A comfortable man with dividends,
And the first salmon and the first read more

A solid man of Boston;
A comfortable man with dividends,
And the first salmon and the first green peas.

The swallow is come!
The swallow is come!
O, fair are the seasons, and light
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The swallow is come!
The swallow is come!
O, fair are the seasons, and light
Are the days that she brings,
With her dusky wings,
And her bosom snowy white!

Romance is the poetry of literature.

Romance is the poetry of literature.

I saw the long line of the vacant shore,
The sea-weed and the shells upon the sand,
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I saw the long line of the vacant shore,
The sea-weed and the shells upon the sand,
And the brown rocks left bare on every hand,
As if the ebbing tide would flow no more.