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by Henry Wordsworth Longfellow(1807-1882) (What The Heart Of The Young Man Said To The Psalmist.) ​ Tell me not, in mournful numbers, "Life is but an empty dream!" For the sould is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem...

ah Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah Ah, ah, ah, ah Ah, ah, ah, ah Ah, ah, ah, ah Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah With every note this mournful trumpet Tells me it feels the same as I So we cry, so we cry, yes we cry Ah, ah, ah, ah Ah, ah, ah, ah Ah, ah, ah...

resonance to the reader. One-Line Review: Far from merely exposing the horrors of war, this poem is a sublime and mournful "Requiem" that gently escorts the souls of the fallen back to the warm floor of their hometown rooms. 2. French...

up like daisies . . . the long way home . . . [The Mexican Woman turns slowly and drifts back off with her soft mournful cries. Blanche goes to the dresser and leans forward on it. After a moment, Mitch rises and follows her purposefully...