Walk to the river’s edge, my son,
And read from the poet’s life…
Fortunes atop white-capped waves,
Trials across grey-worn skies.
Words flow like hallowed water,
Testaments to fire and years,
A snow-wept cross, his burden–
An apotheosis of tears.
*After strolling along the Eastern Promenade, I walked through Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s childhood home today…*