The Poet in our Hearts

POSSIBILITIES by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Where are the poets unto whom belong
     The Olympian heights: whose singing shafts were sent
     Straight to the mark, and not from bows half bent,
     But with utmost tension of the thong?

Where are the stately argosies of song,
     Whose rushing keels made music as they went
     Sailing in search of some new continent,
     With all sail set, and steady winds and strong?

Perhaps there lives some dreamy boy, untaught
     In schools, some graduate of the field or street,
     Who shall become a master of the art,
     An admiral sailing the high seas of thought,
     Fearless and first, and steering with his fleet
     For lands not yet laid down in any chart.

“Some dreamy boy, untaught…”
I love Longfellow’s call to the poet in our hearts.

My grandmother always said that Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was our ancestor.  I’m happy to claim that.

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One response to “The Poet in our Hearts

  1. Pingback: Longfellow and me « renplus

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