Childrens Own Longfellow

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Title: The Children's Own Longfellow
Author: Henry W. Longfellow
Release Date: October, 2005 [EBook #9080]?[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]?[This file was first posted on September 3, 2003]
Edition: 10
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
? START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHILDREN'S OWN LONGFELLOW ***
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THE CHILDREN'S OWN LONGFELLOW
Illustrated
1908
Publishers' Note
Longfellow has been fitly called the children's poet. Many of his poems have from their very first appearance been favorites with youthful readers, and for many thousands of children he is the poet best beloved. It has been, therefore, the hope of the publishers that this volume, containing eight of the most popular of these poems, illustrated in color by some of the best known American artists of the present day, will find a ready welcome at the hands of young folks and their parents.
CONTENTS
THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS
THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH
EVANGELINE?Part the First
THE SONG OF HIAWATHA:?Hiawatha's Sailing?Hiawatha's Fishing
THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP
THE CASTLE-BUILDER
PAUL REVERE'S RIDE
THE BUILDING OF THE LONG SERPENT
ILLUSTRATIONS
THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS S.M. Arthurs?He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat?Against the stinging blast
THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH Howard Smith?And children coming home from school?Look in at the open door
EVANGELINE?Homeward serenely she walked with God's benediction upon her. When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music
HIAWATHA'S FISHING?And he dropped his line of cedar?Through the clear, transparent water
THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP C. W. Ashley?The sun shone on her golden hair,?And her cheek was glowing fresh and fair
THE CASTLE-BUILDER Olive Rush?A castle-builder, with his wooden blocks,?And towers that touch imaginary skies
PAUL REVERE'S RIDE Howard Smith?A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door
THE BUILDING OF THE LONG SERPENT?"Men shall hear of Thorberg Skafting?For a hundred year!"
[Illustration: THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS S.M. Arthurs
He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat?Against the stinging blast ]
THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS
It was the schooner Hesperus,?That sailed the wintry sea;?And the skipper had taken his little daughter,?To bear him company.
Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax,?Her cheeks like the dawn of day,?And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds,?That ope in the month of May.
The skipper he stood beside the helm,?His pipe was in his mouth,?And he watched how the veering flaw did blow?The smoke now West, now South.
Then up and spake an old Sailor,?Had sailed to the Spanish Main,?"I pray thee, put into yonder port,?For I fear a hurricane.
"Last night, the moon had a golden ring,?And to-night no moon we see!"?The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe,?And a scornful laugh laughed he.
Colder and louder blew the wind,?A gale from the Northeast,?The snow fell hissing in the brine,?And the billows frothed like yeast.
Down came the storm, and smote amain?The vessel in its strength;?She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed,?Then leaped her cable's length.
"Come hither! come hither! my little daughter,?And do not tremble so;?For I can weather the roughest gale?That ever wind did blow."
He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat?Against the stinging blast;?He cut a rope from a broken spar,?And bound her to the mast.
"O father! I hear the church-bells ring,?Oh say, what may it be?"?"'T is a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast!"--?And he steered for the open sea.
"O father! I hear the sound of guns,?Oh say, what may it be?"?"Some ship in distress, that cannot live?In such an angry sea!"
"O father! I see a gleaming light,?Oh say, what may it be?"?But the father answered never a word,?A frozen corpse was he.
Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark,?With his face turned to the skies,?The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow?On his fixed and glassy eyes.
Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed?That saved she might be;?And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave,?On the Lake of Galilee.
And fast through the midnight dark and drear,?Through the whistling sleet and snow,?Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept?Tow'rds the reef of Norman's Woe.
And ever the fitful gusts