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who followed him is very great. In Henry Wadsworth Longfellow American
poetry reached high-water mark. Lafcadio Hearn in his "Interpretations
of Literature" says: "Really I believe that it is a very good test of any
Englishman's ability to feel poetry, simply to ask him, 'Did you like
Longfellow when you were a boy?' If he eats 'No,' then it is no use to
talk to him on the subject of poetry at all, however much he might be
able to tell you about quantities and metres." No American has in equal
degree won the name of "household poet." If this term is correctly
understood, it sums up his merits more succinctly than can any other
title.

Longfellow dealt largely with men and women and the emotions common to us
all. Hiawatha conquering the deer and bison, and hunting in despair for
food where only snow and ice abound; Evangeline faithful to her father
and her lover, and relieving suffering in the rude hospitals of a new
world; John Alden fighting the battle between love and duty; Robert of
Sicily learning the lesson of humility; Sir Federigo offering his last
possession to the woman he loved; Paul Revere serving his country in time
of need; the monk proving that only a sense of duty done can bring
happiness: all these and more express the emotions which we know are true
in our own lives. In his longer narrative poems he makes the legends of
Puritan life real to us; he takes English folk-lore and makes us see
Othere talking to Arthur, and the Viking stealing his bride. His short
poems are even better known than his longer narratives. In them he
expressed his gentle, sincere love of the young, the suffering, and the
sorrowful. In the Sonnets he showed; that deep appreciation of European
literature which made noteworthy his teaching at Harvard and his
translations.

He believed that he was assigned a definite task in the world which he
described as follows in his last poem:

"As comes the smile to the lips,
The foam to the surge;

So come to the Poet his songs,
All hitherward blown
From the misty realm, that belongs
To the vast unknown.

His, and not his, are the lays
He sings; and their fame
Is his, and not his; and the praise
And the pride of a name.

For voices pursue him by day
And haunt him by