It by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and it's called The cross of snow.
2006-11-08
07:23:30
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3 answers
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Girly
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Arts & Humanities
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this is the poem:
In the long, sleepless watches of the night,
A gentle face- the face of one long dead-
Looks at me from the wall, where round its head
The night-lamp casts a halo of pale light.
here in this room she died: and soul more white
Never through martyrdom of fire was led
to it's repose:nor can in books be read
The legend of a life more benedight.
There is a mountain in the distant West
That, sun-defyining, in its deep ravines
Displays a cross of snow upon its side.
Such is the cross I wear upon my breast
These eighteen years, through all the changing scenes
And seasons, changeless since the day she died.
2006-11-08
07:47:32 ·
update #1