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Birds of Passage, poem(s) by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

A BOOK OF SONNETS - The Cross of Snow

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The Cross of Snow

 

In the long, sleepless watches of the night,
A gentle face--the face of one long dead--
Looks at me from the wall, where round its head
The night-lamp casts a halo of pale light.
Here in this room she died; and soul more white
Never through martyrdom of fire was led
To its repose; nor can in books be read
The legend of a life more benedight.
There is a mountain in the distant West
That, sun-defying, in its deep ravines
Displays a cross of snow upon its side.
Such is the cross I wear upon my breast
These eighteen years, through all the changing scenes
And seasons, changeless since the day she died.

 

 



Content of A BOOK OF SONNETS: The Cross of Snow [Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's poem collection: Birds of Passage]



Read next: FLIGHT THE FOURTH: Charles Sumner

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Table of content of Birds of Passage


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