Longfellow’s phrases, like those of Shakespeare, have passed into such common parlance that nobody stops to consider that ships that pass in the night, for example, has a specific origin.
The poems of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882), author of “Paul Revere’s Ride,” “The Song of Hiawatha,” and “Evangeline: A Tale of Acadie,” hypnotized whole generations of nineteenth-century readers, who embraced Longfellow’s body of work as an original, thoroughly American mythology. People recited his poems at gatherings large and small. During his lifetime, schoolchildren celebrated his birthday. Characters from his poems, as well as the poet himself, became place names, names of public buildings and schools. His phrases, like those of Shakespeare, have passed into such common parlance that nobody stops to consider that ships that pass in the night, for example, has a specific origin. Today’s poem, “Aftermath,” however, grants us a glimpse of an introspective Longfellow. In two tetrameter seven-line stanzas, with an aabcccb rhyme scheme, the poem dwells on the quiet, sad, but ultimately fruitful disorder that descends on a wintering landscape.
Already have a subscription? Sign in to continue reading
Cancel anytime
By continuing you agree to our Privacy Policy and Terms of Service.
By JOSEPH CURL
|
By JAMES BROOKE
|
By DEAN KARAYANIS
|
By JENNIFER DOHERTY
|
By BRADLEY CORTRIGHT
|
By HOLLIE McKAY
|
By HOLLIE McKAY
|
By ALEX ZDAN
|
