The last time I read Longerfellow's work was when I was a child in the Bronx. His many collections featured prominently on my Grandmother's bookshelf. Unfortunately, the publisher put asbestos in the book covers, and so there was a recall of all copies. Shortly after, there was the fire, and my Grandmother died a year later, her life having lost its meaning. I feel on reading this that I have found my Grandmother's soul again for her.more »
As a man who has lived my life searching for meaning, I never thought I would find it in the 17 syllables of a haiku. I didn't here, but it makes you think.