Autumn Within - Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Round Autumn's mouldering urn
Loud mourns the chill and cheerless gale,
When nightfall shades the quiet vale
And stars in beauty burn.

Autumn - Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Thou comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain,
With banners, by great gales incessant fanned,
Brighter than brightest silks of Samarcand,
And stately oxen harnessed to thy wain!
Thou standest, like imperial Charlemagne,

Arsenal At Springfield, The - Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling,
Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms;
But front their silent pipes no anthem pealing
Startles the villages with strange alarms.

http://poemhunter.com/poem/annie-of-tharaw-from-the-low-german-of-simon-dach/

Annie of Tharaw, my true love of old, 
She is my life, and my goods, and my gold. 

Annie of Tharaw, her heart once again 
To me has surrendered in joy and in pain. 

Annie Of Tharaw. (From The Low German Of Simon Dach) - Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Annie of Tharaw, my true love of old, 
She is my life, and my goods, and my gold. 

Annie of Tharaw, her heart once again 
To me has surrendered in joy and in pain. 

Annie Of Tharaw. (From The Low German Of Simon Dach) - Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Annie of Tharaw, my true love of old, 
She is my life, and my goods, and my gold. 

Annie of Tharaw, her heart once again 
To me has surrendered in joy and in pain. 

Amalfi. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Fourth) - Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Sweet the memory is to me
Of a land beyond the sea,
Where the waves and mountains meet,
Where amid her mulberry-trees
Sits Amalfi in the heat,
Bathing ever her white feet
In the tideless summer seas.