Sunday, January 4, 2026

 

TO LONGFELLOW

  

There was a time when poetry was found

Throughout this land, in parlors far and wide,

And actually was read; while side by side

Sat families and friends all gathered round

To hear your words. This practice was held sound,

Not an anomaly, as ‘tis today--

For the electric image now holds sway,

And poetry lies crippled on the ground.

 

Return to us, O Longfellow, to teach

Once more the liberal arts in our sad schools,

Where poetry is gibberish or trite!

You showed us that the Old World’s cultured rules

Can be applied to us afresh, despite

Our quest for novelties beyond our reach.

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