a short walk for longfellow

A Short Walk for Longfellow

Walking in Portland

A Short Walk For Longfellow

It was FebruaryTwo thousand tenI went to a placeI had never been.

A little city By the seaTo visit my daughterAnna Leigh.

As I walked the sidewalkPaved in stone,I found him sittingAll alone.

Who was this manIn the round about?It’s Henry Longfellow,I began shout!

Past the statueI continued to strollMore LongfellowI would come to know.

A pig in the windowWith a golden sheenA restaurant named Evangeline.

Henry LongfellowLeft his markIn buildings, on streetsAnd even a park.

Words and rhymesAnd metaphorsLongfellow BooksThe name of a store.

The people of Portland love their poetThe Historical SocietyWas built to show it.

The house with a gardenAnd artifactsA view of the parlorWhere Henry relaxed.

Longfellow spoke of The patter of feet andOf the voices soSoft and sweet.

It was within the walls ofThis stately houseThat Longfellow lostHis beloved spouse.

They say it was hot waxOr a match that fellOn her gauzy dressCreating Longfellow hell.

My mother had taught meAbout the girl,You know the oneWith the little curl?

Or “Listen childrenAnd you will hear,”Those words he wroteFor Paul Revere.

But darkness loomedAnd lonely was heHe couldn’t find wordsWithout Fanny.

I hope one day To walk againAlong the streetsWhere Longfellows been.

To visit more lighthousesThat lit the wayAnd eat more lobsterBy the bay.

This little city By the seaIs way more charming thanI thought it would be!