101 Poems Number 47

Favorite Poems Throughout My Life

47: “The Cross of Snow,” 1879 (not published until after his death), by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–82)

On, not with ink but just with tears

Our poet wrote this sonnet. He

Wrote of the time—it was some years

Before—his wife in misery

Had died in accidental flames*

In her own home. The poet saw

Her run into his room. He names

That day of horror, day of awe,

In lines reminding us of pain—

Of loss that cannot be endured.

He will not see his love again—

His suffering can not be cured.

*On July 10, 1861, she accidentally knocked a candle onto her dress, burst into flames, raced to her husband’s study, where he looked up to see … the unimaginable. He struggled to extinguish the fire, but she could not be saved. He suffered facial burns that he subsequently covered with the full beard that we now associate with him. She died a day later. She was 43.

Link to poem.