What is the name and who is the author of a poem with lines." Under the spreading chestnut tree, the village smithy stands" ? Can any one help?
It's by Longfellow:
The Village Smithy
Under a spreading chestnut-tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.
His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate'er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.
Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.
And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter's voice,
Singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.
It sounds to him like her mother's voice,
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.
Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought.
What is the name and who is the author of the poem (epigram)with lines, "This life I've loved so dearly, But grudgingly must leave...." Can anyone help? Thanks
Assuming you're not in his class, I guess you could ask:
What! He doesn't know it either? Oh, well, wait for Ilza then.
thanks for your help.
Thank you so much for sending in this poem. I have looked for it for years.
Here's the rest of it in case it jogs any memories:
This life Iíve loved so dearly,
But grudgingly must leave;
Not for its pleasures merely,
Oh, do I grieve!
Not for pleasures forsaken,
Nor for lovers forsworn,
But for roads not yet undertaken:
Do I mourn.
Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 07/05/2005 01:04PM by marian2.
I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR 5 YEARS (!) FOR SOMEONE TO POST THE NAME OF THE AUTHOR OF THIS POEM.
SOMEBODY MUST HAVE A CLUE ! IT'S NOW 2010. IDEAS WOULD BE APPRECIATED ! ! ! !