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Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


Dante


Tuscan, that wanderest through the realms of gloom,
  With thoughtful pace, and sad, majestic eyes,
  Stern thoughts and awful from thy soul arise,
  Like Farinata from his fiery tomb.
Thy sacred song is like the trump of doom;
  Yet in thy heart what human sympathies,
  What soft compassion glows, as in the skies
  The tender stars their clouded lamps relume!
Methinks I see thee stand, with pallid cheeks
  By Fra Hilario in his diocese,
  As up the convent-walls, in golden streaks,
The ascending sunbeams mark the day's decrease;
  And, as he asks what there the stranger seeks,
  Thy voice along the cloister whispers, "Peace!"



Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's other poems:
  1. Thora of Rimol
  2. King Olafs War-Horns
  3. The Crew of the Long Serpent
  4. Einar Tamberskelver
  5. King Olafs Christmas


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