Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (27 February 1807 – 24 March 1882 / Portland, Maine)
I said unto myself, if I were dead,
What would befall these children? What would be
Their fate, who now are looking up to me
For help and furtherance? Their lives, I said,
Would be a volume wherein I have read
But the first chapters, and no longer see
To read the rest of their dear history,
So full of beauty and so full of dread.
Be comforted; the world is very old,
And generations pass, as they have passed,
A troop of shadows moving with the sun;
Thousands of times has the old tale been told;
The world belongs to those who come the last,
They will find hope and strength as we have done.
Poet Other Poems
- A Ballad Of The French Fleet. (Birds Of ...
- A Day Of Sunshine. (Birds Of Passage. Fl...
- A Dutch Picture. (Birds Of Passage. Flig...
- A Gleam of Sunshine
- A Nameless Grave
- A Psalm of Life
- A Shadow
- A Song Of Savoy
- A Summer Day By The Sea
- A Wraith In The Mist. (Birds Of Passage....
- Afternoon in February
- Allah. (From The German Of Mahlmann)
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.