HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW was born in Portland, Me., February 27, 1807, and he died at his home in Cambridge, Mass., March 24, 1882, at the age ot seventy-five. For some time before his death his home was in the building formerly occupied by Gen. Washington as his headquarters. Longfellow studied at Bowdoin College, Brunswick, and after three years' travel and study in Europe, became Professor of Modern Languages in his native college. In 1835, he accepted the Chair of Modern Languages and Literature in Harvard University. The poet's youth was noted for industry and close application to study. While at college, he became somewhat noted for his poems and criticisms contributed to periodicals. Longfellow's literary record is a long one. In 1833, he published translations of Spanish verses called Coplas de Manrique, and an essay on Spanish poetry; 1835, Sketches from Beyond the Sea; 1839, Hyperion, a Romance, and also collections of poems, entitled Voices of the Night; 1842, Poems on Slavery, 1843, The Spanish Student, a tragedy; 1845, Poets and Poetry of Europe; 1846, The Belfry of Bruges; 1847, Evange line; 1849, Kavanaugh, and The Seaside and Fireside; 1851, The Golden Legend; 1855, Song of Hiawatha; 1858, Miles Standish; 1863, Tales of a Wayside Inn. He has also published Three Books of Song, a divine tragedy; and translations. Thus we see that Longfellow was a great literary worker. Whipple says that Longfellow idealizes real life, embodies high moral sentiment in beautiful and ennobling forms, and inweaves the golden threads of spiritual being into the texture of common existence. He is the most popular of American poets, and his works are admired throughout the literary world. In speaking of his death, under date of March 24, 1882, the London Times, says: "News of Longfellow's death will be read with deep regret whereever the English language is spoken. The death of no literary Englishman could excite more general sorrow than that of the much-loved author of Evangeline. He will be no more sincerely lamented in America than in this country." The News, Standard and Telegraph all speak in equally graceful terms of Longfellow. All the many sounds of nature Borrowed sweetness from his singing; All the hearts of men were softened For he sang of peace and freedom, -Hiawatha. THE The Day Is Done. HE day is done, and the darkness 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, Come read to me some poem, Not from the grand old masters, Through the corridors of time; For, like strains of martial music, Life's endless toil and endeavor, Read from some humble 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, Such songs have power to quiet 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, Hiawatha's Wooing. S unto the bow the cord is, So unto the man is woman; Though she bends him, she obeys him, Thus the youthful Hiawatha "Wed a maiden of your people," |