Produced by Patricia Peters and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. [Illustration] The Children’s Own Longfellow Illustrated Contents The Wreck of the Hesperus The Village Blacksmith Evangeline Part the First The Song of Hiawatha: Hiawatha’s Sailing Hiawatha’s Fishing The Building of the Ship The Castle-Builder Paul Revere’s Ride The Building of the Long Serpent Illustrations The Wreck of the Hesperus He wrapped her warm in his seaman’s coat Against the stinging blast The Village Blacksmith And children coming home from school Look in at the open door Evangeline Homeward serenely she walked with God’s benediction upon her. When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music Hiawatha’s Fishing And he dropped his line of cedar Through the clear, transparent water The Building of the Ship The sun shone on her golden hair, And her cheek was glowing fresh and fair The Castle-Builder A castle-builder, with his wooden blocks, And towers that touch imaginary skies Paul Revere’s Ride A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door The Building of the Long Serpent “Men shall hear of Thorberg Skafting For a hundred year!” Publishers’ Note Longfellow has been fitly called the children’s poet. Many of his poems have from their very first appearance been favorites with youthful readers, and for many thousands of children he is the poet best beloved. It has been, therefore, the hope of the publishers that this volume, containing eight of the most popular of these poems, illustrated in color by some of the best known American artists of the present day, will find a ready welcome at the hands of young folks and their parents. The Wreck of the Hesperus [Illustration: The Wreck of the Hesperus] It was the schooner Hesperus, That sailed the wintry sea; And the skipper had taken his little daughter, To bear him company. Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax, Her cheeks like the dawn of day, And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds, That ope in the month of May. The skipper he stood beside the helm, His pipe was in his mouth, And he watched how the veering flaw did blow The smoke now West, now South. Then up and spake an old Sailòr, Had sailed to the Spanish Main, “I pray thee, put into yonder port, For I fear a hurricane. “Last night, the moon had a golden ring, And to-night no moon we see!” The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe, And a scornful laugh laughed he. Colder and louder blew the wind, A gale from the Northeast, The snow fell hissing in the brine, And the billows frothed like yeast. Down came the storm, and smote amain The vessel in its strength; She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed, Then leaped her cable’s length. “Come hither! come hither! my little daughter, And do not tremble so; For I can weather the roughest gale That ever wind did blow.”