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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - The Poets

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. 

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Added: Jun 9 2005 | Viewed: 4506 times | Comments and analysis of The Poets by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Comments (1)

The Poets - Comments and Information

Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Poem: The Poets
Volume: Birds Of Passage

Comment 1 of 1, added on February 20th, 2012 at 5:32 PM.

can please help me with this poem??


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