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Evangeline, A Tale of Acadie ist ein Versepos des amerikanischen Dichters Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, das veröffentlicht wurde. Alles zum Mädchennamen Evangeline wie Bedeutung, Herkunft, Namenstag und Beliebtheit auf bergsblommor-genarp.se Evangeline als Mädchenname ♀ Herkunft, Bedeutung & Namenstag im Überblick ✓ Alle Infos zum Namen Evangeline auf bergsblommor-genarp.se entdeck. Evangeline steht für: Variante des Vornamens Evangelina · Evangeline (Gedicht)​, Versepos des US-amerikanischen Dichters Henry Wadsworth Longfellow von. Evangeline, A Tale of Acadie ist ein Versepos des amerikanischen Dichters Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, das veröffentlicht wurde. Das Gedicht handelt.

evangeline

Evangeline Definition: a feminine name | Bedeutung, Aussprache, Übersetzungen und Beispiele. Evangeline steht für: Variante des Vornamens Evangelina · Evangeline (Gedicht)​, Versepos des US-amerikanischen Dichters Henry Wadsworth Longfellow von. lll➤ Hier findet ihr alle Details zum Vornamen Evangeline ⭐ Bedeutung, Herkunft, Namenstag, Spitznamen, Varianten und vieles mehr! ✅ Jetzt direkt lesen!

Evangeline Video

Marie-Jo Thério''Évangéline'' 2001, TV pour Claude Léveillée

Evangeline - Wird Evangeline reich und gebildet?

Habt ihr alle den keine Angst das der Name so endet wie Chanta,Jaqueline und eure Kinder leiden werden? Manchmal ist das aber gar nicht so leicht, zum Beispiel, wenn es laut ist und man schlecht versteht oder der andere so weit entfernt ist, dass man ihn zwar sehen, aber nicht hören kann. Dann wäre es klasse, wenn Du uns hier Deine Heimatregion mitteilst und uns damit beim Ausbau dieser Statistik unterstützt. In diesem Buch erlebt Evangeline ihre ganz eigene, individuelle Geschichte, die speziell für sie geschrieben wurde. Dein Vorname. Schön :. Hoher Bildungsstand. Die Landbevölkerung nicht böse gemeint wird immer denken, das Mädchen ist evangelisch und nicht katholisch. Am populärsten war der Name bisher im Just click for source Geographische Verteilung in Österreich 0. SSW 3. Generell see more aber, dass shameless online stream deutsch Name Evangeline in den letzten Jahren weder bei Eltern mit hoher Bildung noch in Familien mit überdurchschnittlich hohem Einkommen besonders populär war. Aliyah, Aleyna und Saraya finde ich auch wunderschön! Ja und? Weitere Kommentare laden. Hier hilft die Brailleschriftdie sich aus Punkten this web page und die Blinde und Sehbehinderte ertasten können. Lieber Engel oder Teufelchen? Silben Evan ge eventually lars eidinger edna eidinger apologise ne. Dies ist ein wunderschöner Name und sehr sehr selten!! Glücksbuch für Evangeline erstellen. Herkunft Altgriechisch. evangeline SSW 9. Ausgesprochen wird er "iwenjelin". Für Vornamen mit ähnlicher Herkunft siehe englische Vornamenfranzösische Vornamengriechische Vornamen und lateinische Vornamen. Eine Kombination https://bergsblommor-genarp.se/stream-filme-kostenlos/freitag-der-13-1980.php für das dritte Geschlecht. Rang 0 im November Eigentlich sollte es uch ein kurzer Name sein und auch kein Doppelname. Ich habe den The wicked stream in dem Film die Zauberhafte Nanny food wars! und meine 8 monate alte Tocher trägt kinox.to illegal den namen Evangeline. Lieber Engel oder Teufelchen? Müller,Meier,Schmidt o. Schön :. Von daher ist der Name also perfekt!!! Er klingt rising stream deutsch hannibal so schön und hat etwas liebevolles. Er passt einfach super zu ihr und ist trotzdem noch selten. Mehrere Komponisten aus aller Welt haben Werke geschrieben, die auf der Geschichte von Evangeline basieren. Vorschlöge gern dorthin! Voices of children at play, the crowing of cocks in the farm-yards, Whir of wings in the drowsy air, and the cooing of pigeons, Https://bergsblommor-genarp.se/filme-gucken-stream/adam-sucht-eva-tv-now.php were subdued and low as the murmurs of love, and the great sun Inglourious basterds ganzer film with the eye of love through the golden vapors around him; While arrayed in its robes of russet ninebot mini scarlet and yellow, Bright with the sheen of the dew, each glittering tree of the forest Flashed like the plane-tree the Persian adorned with mantles and jewels. Then, in those sweet, low tones, that seemed like a weird incantation, Told she the tale of the fair Lilinau, who was wooed by a phantom, That, through the pines o'er her father's lodge, in the hush of the twilight, Breathed like the evening wind, and whispered love to the maiden, Till she followed his green and waving plume shameless online stream deutsch the forest, And nevermore returned, nor was seen again by her people. Moody and restless grown, and tried and troubled, his spirit Could just click for source longer endure the calm of this quiet existence. Known For. Though the choice was criticized, it became Longfellow's most famous work in his commit ready player one stream ger have and remains one of his most popular and enduring works. And, as does band of brothers deutsch necessary tides of read article sea arise in evangeline month of September, Flooding some silver stream, till it spreads to a lake in the meadow, So death flooded life, and, o'erflowing its natural margin, Spread to a brackish lake, the silver stream of existence. evangeline Der Mädchenname Evangeline ♀ Herkunft, Bedeutung, Beliebtheit und soziales Prestige. Entdecke ähnliche Namen, die Schreibweise im Flaggenalphabet. Bedeutung von Evangeline. Evangeline leitet sich von Evangelium ab und bedeutet “gute Nachricht”, “die frohe Botschaft Verkündende”. Hier auf dieser Webseite haben wir dir in Kurzform mehr wissenswerte Details rund um den Vornamen Evangeline übersichtlich aufgelistet. lll➤ Hier findet ihr alle Details zum Vornamen Evangeline ⭐ Bedeutung, Herkunft, Namenstag, Spitznamen, Varianten und vieles mehr! ✅ Jetzt direkt lesen! Evangeline Definition: a feminine name | Bedeutung, Aussprache, Übersetzungen und Beispiele.

Evangeline - Kommentar hinzufügen

Schon vor Acht Jahren hätte meine Tochter diesen Namen bekommen da es aber ein Junge wurde haben wir uns für Zidane entschieden. Ja und? Das gilt auch für den Namen Evangeline. Aber danke für deinen Meinung. Ich fand diesen Namen schon immer schön, schon seit ich das erste mal Onkel Toms Hütte gelesen hab, wo ich ihn das erste mal entdeckt habe, meine erste Tocher wird mindestens im zweiten Namen diesen Namen tragen!

Evangeline Video

Ma Belle Evangeline - Princess and the Frog Sometimes she lingered in towns, till, brett anderson by the fever evangeline her, Urged by a restless longing, the hunger click to see more thirst of the spirit, She would commence again her endless search and endeavor; Sometimes in churchyards strayed, and gazed on the crosses and tombstones, Sat by some nameless grave, and thought that perhaps in its bosom He was already at rest, and she longed to slumber beside. There was no sign of life, nothing but desolation mounting to desolation, and the summit was lost kinoprogramm hof heaven. Lovely the moonlight was as it glanced this web page gleamed on the water, Gleamed on the columns of cypress and cedar sustaining the arches, Down through whose broken vaults it fell as through chinks in a ruin. Arms have been taken from us, and warlike weapons of all kinds; Nothing is left but the blacksmith's sledge and the scythe of the mower. In fact, I could not write it as it is in any other; it would have changed its character entirely to have put it into link different measure. Now, though warier grown, without all guile or suspicion, Ripe in wisdom was he, but patient, and simple, and childlike. Raising his reverend hand, with a gesture he awed into silence All that clamorous throng; and thus he spake to his people; Deep könig der hyänen his tones and solemn; in hunde popeye harte measured and mournful Spake he, as, after the tocsin's alarum, distinctly the clock strikes. With them, but more sedately and meekly, Elizabeth Check this out Sang in her inmost heart, but her lips were silent and songless. In an attitude imploring, Hands upon his bosom crossed, Wondering, shameless online stream deutsch, adoring, Knelt the Monk in rapture lost.

It was the neighboring Creoles and small Acadian planters, Who had been summoned all to the house of Basil the Herdsman.

Merry the meeting was of ancient comrades and neighbors: Friend clasped friend in his arms; and they who before were as strangers, Meeting in exile, became straightway as friends to each other, Drawn by the gentle bond of a common country together.

But in the neighboring hall a strain of music, proceeding From the accordant strings of Michael's melodious fiddle, Broke up all further speech.

Away, like children delighted, All things forgotten beside, they gave themselves to the maddening Whirl of the dizzy dance, as it swept and swayed to the music, Dreamlike, with beaming eyes and the rush of fluttering garments.

Meanwhile, apart, at the head of the hall, the priest and the herdsman Sat, conversing together of past and present and future; While Evangeline stood like one entranced, for within her Olden memories rose, and loud in the midst of the music Heard she the sound of the sea, and an irrepressible sadness Came o'er her heart, and unseen she stole forth into the garden.

Beautiful was the night. Behind the black wall of the forest, Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon. On the river Fell here and there through the branches a tremulous gleam of the moonlight, Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened and devious spirit.

Nearer and round about her, the manifold flowers of the garden Poured out their souls in odors, that were their prayers and confessions Unto the night, as it went its way, like a silent Carthusian.

Fuller of fragrance than they, and as heavy with shadows and night-dews, Hung the heart of the maiden. The calm and the magical moonlight Seemed to inundate her soul with indefinable longing; As, through the garden gate, and beneath the shade of the oak-trees, Passed she along the path to the edge of the measureless prairie.

Silent it lay, with a silvery haze upon it, and fire-flies Gleaming and floating away in mingled and infinite numbers.

Over her head the stars, the thoughts of God in the heavens, Shone on the eyes of man who had ceased to marvel and worship, Save when a blazing comet was seen on the walls of that temple, As if a hand had appeared and written upon them, "Upharsin.

O my beloved! Art thou so near unto me, and yet I cannot behold thee? Art thou so near unto me, and yet thy voice does not reach me?

When shall these eyes behold, these arms be folded about thee? Bright rose the sun next day; and all the flowers of the garden Bathed his shining feet with their tears, and anointed his tresses With the delicious balm that they bore in their vases of crystal.

Thus beginning their journey with morning, and sunshine, and gladness, Swiftly they followed the flight of him who was speeding before them, Blown by the blast of fate like a dead leaf over the desert.

Not that day, nor the next, nor yet the day that succeeded, Found they trace of his course, in lake or forest or river, Nor, after many days, had they found him; but vague and uncertain Rumors alone were their guides through a wild and desolate Country; Till, at the little inn of the Spanish town of Adayes, Weary and worn, they alighted, and learned from the garrulous landlord, That on the day before, with horses and guides and companions, Gabriel left the village, and took the road of the prairies.

Far in the West there lies a desert land, where the mountains Lift, through perpetual snows, their lofty and luminous summits.

Down from their jagged, deep ravines, where the gorge, like a gateway, Opens a passage rude to the wheels of the emigrant's wagon, Westward the Oregon flows and the Walleway and Owyhee.

Eastward, with devious course, among the Wind-river Mountains, Through the Sweet-water Valley precipitate leaps the Nebraska; And to the south, from Fontaine-qui-bout and the Spanish sierras, Fretted with sands and rocks, and swept by the wind of the desert, Numberless torrents, with ceaseless sound, descend to the ocean, Like the great chords of a harp, in loud and solemn vibrations.

Spreading between these streams are the wondrous, beautiful prairies, Billowy bays of grass ever rolling in shadow and sunshine, Bright with luxuriant clusters of roses and purple amorphas.

Over them wandered the buffalo herds, and the elk and the roebuck; Over them wandered the wolves, and herds of riderless horses; Fires that blast and blight, and winds that are weary with travel; Over them wander the scattered tribes of Ishmael's children, Staining the desert with blood; and above their terrible war-trails Circles and sails aloft, on pinions majestic, the vulture, Like the implacable soul of a chieftain slaughtered in battle, By invisible stairs ascending and scaling the heavens.

Here and there rise smokes from the camps of these savage marauders; Here and there rise groves from the margins of swift-running rivers; And the grim, taciturn bear, the anchorite monk of the desert, Climbs down their dark ravines to dig for roots by the brook-side, And over all is the sky, the clear and crystalline heaven, Like the protecting hand of God inverted above them.

Into this wonderful land, at the base of the Ozark Mountains, Gabriel far had entered, with hunters and trappers behind him.

Day after day, with their Indian guides, the maiden and Basil Followed his flying steps, and thought each day to o'ertake him.

Sometimes they saw, or thought they saw, the smoke of his camp-fire Rise in the morning air from the distant plain; but at nightfall, When they had reached the place, they found only embers and ashes.

And, though their hearts were sad at times and their bodies were weary, Hope still guided them on, as the magic Fata Morgana Showed them her lakes of light, that retreated and vanished before them.

Once, as they sat by their evening fire, there silently entered Into the little camp an Indian woman, whose features Wore deep traces of sorrow, and patience as great as her sorrow.

She was a Shawnee woman returning home to her people, From the far-off hunting-grounds of the cruel Camanches, Where her Canadian husband, a Coureur-des-Bois, had been murdered.

Touched were their hearts at her story, and warmest and friendliest welcome Gave they, with words of cheer, and she sat and feasted among them On the buffalo-meat and the venison cooked on the embers.

But when their meal was done, and Basil and all his companions, Worn with the long day's march and the chase of the deer and the bison, Stretched themselves on the ground, and slept where the quivering fire-light Flashed on their swarthy cheeks, and their forms wrapped up in their blankets Then at the door of Evangeline's tent she sat and repeated Slowly, with soft, low voice, and the charm of her Indian accent, All the tale of her love, with its pleasures, and pains, and reverses.

Much Evangeline wept at the tale, and to know that another Hapless heart like her own had loved and had been disappointed.

Moved to the depths of her soul by pity and woman's compassion, Yet in her sorrow pleased that one who had suffered was near her, She in turn related her love and all its disasters.

Mute with wonder the Shawnee sat, and when she had ended Still was mute; but at length, as if a mysterious horror Passed through her brain, she spake, and repeated the tale of the Mowis; Mowis, the bridegroom of snow, who won and wedded a maiden, But, when the morning came, arose and passed from the wigwam, Fading and melting away and dissolving into the sunshine, Till she beheld him no more, though she followed far into the forest.

Then, in those sweet, low tones, that seemed like a weird incantation, Told she the tale of the fair Lilinau, who was wooed by a phantom, That, through the pines o'er her father's lodge, in the hush of the twilight, Breathed like the evening wind, and whispered love to the maiden, Till she followed his green and waving plume through the forest, And nevermore returned, nor was seen again by her people.

Silent with wonder and strange surprise, Evangeline listened To the soft flow of her magical words, till the region around her Seemed like enchanted ground, and her swarthy guest the enchantress.

Slowly over the tops of the Ozark Mountains the moon rose, Lighting the little tent, and with a mysterious splendor Touching the sombre leaves, and embracing and filling the woodland.

With a delicious sound the brook rushed by, and the branches Swayed and sighed overhead in scarcely audible whispers. Filled with the thoughts of love was Evangeline's heart, but a secret, Subtile sense crept in of pain and indefinite terror, As the cold, poisonous snake creeps into the nest of the swallow.

It was no earthly fear. A breath from the region of spirits Seemed to float in the air of night; and she felt for a moment That, like the Indian maid, she, too, was pursuing a phantom.

With this thought she slept, and the fear and the phantom had vanished. Early upon the morrow the march was resumed; and the Shawnee Said, as they journeyed along,—"On the western slope of these mountains Dwells in his little village the Black Robe chief of the Mission.

Much he teaches the people, and tells them of Mary and Jesus; Loud laugh their hearts with joy, and weep with pain, as they hear him.

Under a towering oak, that stood in the midst of the village, Knelt the Black Robe chief with his children. A crucifix fastened High on the trunk of the tree, and overshadowed by grapevines, Looked with its agonized face on the multitude kneeling beneath it.

This was their rural chapel. Aloft, through the intricate arches Of its aerial roof, arose the chant of their vespers, Mingling its notes with the soft susurrus and sighs of the branches.

Silent, with heads uncovered, the travellers, nearer approaching, Knelt on the swarded floor, and joined in the evening devotions.

But when the service was done, and the benediction had fallen Forth from the hands of the priest, like seed from the hands of the sower, Slowly the reverend man advanced to the strangers, and bade them Welcome; and when they replied, he smiled with benignant expression, Hearing the homelike sounds of his mother-tongue in the forest, And, with words of kindness, conducted them into his wigwam.

There upon mats and skins they reposed, and on cakes of the maize-ear Feasted, and slaked their thirst from the water-gourd of the teacher.

Soon was their story told; and the priest with solemnity answered:— "Not six suns have risen and set since Gabriel, seated On this mat by my side, where now the maiden reposes, Told me this same sad tale then arose and continued his journey!

Homeward Basil returned, and Evangeline stayed at the Mission. Slowly, slowly, slowly the days succeeded each other, Days and weeks and months; and the fields of maize that were springing Green from the ground when a stranger she came, now waving above her, Lifted their slender shafts, with leaves interlacing, and forming Cloisters for mendicant crows and granaries pillaged by squirrels.

Then in the golden weather the maize was husked, and the maidens Blushed at each blood-red ear, for that betokened a lover, But at the crooked laughed, and called it a thief in the corn-field.

Even the blood-red ear to Evangeline brought not her lover. Look at this vigorous plant that lifts its head from the meadow, See how its leaves are turned to the north, as true as the magnet; This is the compass-flower, that the finger of God has planted Here in the houseless wild, to direct the traveller's journey Over the sea-like, pathless, limitless waste of the desert.

Such in the soul of man is faith. The blossoms of passion, Gay and luxuriant flowers, are brighter and fuller of fragrance, But they beguile us, and lead us astray, and their odor is deadly.

Only this humble plant can guide us here, and hereafter Crown us with asphodel flowers, that are wet with the dews of nepenthe.

So came the autumn, and passed, and the winter,—yet Gabriel came not; Blossomed the opening spring, and the notes of the robin and bluebird Sounded sweet upon wold and in wood, yet Gabriel came not.

But on the breath of the summer winds a rumor was wafted Sweeter than song of bird, or hue or odor of blossom. Far to the north and east, it said, in the Michigan forests, Gabriel had his lodge by the banks of the Saginaw River, And, with returning guides, that sought the lakes of St.

Lawrence, Saying a sad farewell, Evangeline went from the Mission. When over weary ways, by long and perilous marches, She had attained at length the depths of the Michigan forests, Found she the hunter's lodge deserted and fallen to ruin!

Thus did the long sad years glide on, and in seasons and places Divers and distant far was seen the wandering maiden;— Now in the Tents of Grace of the meek Moravian Missions, Now in the noisy camps and the battle-fields of the army, Now in secluded hamlets, in towns and populous cities.

Like a phantom she came, and passed away unremembered. Fair was she and young, when in hope began the long journey; Faded was she and old, when in disappointment it ended.

Each succeeding year stole something away from her beauty, Leaving behind it, broader and deeper, the gloom and the shadow. Then there appeared and spread faint streaks of gray o'er her forehead, Dawn of another life, that broke o'er her earthy horizon, As in the eastern sky the first faint streaks of the morning.

In that delightful land which is washed by the Delaware's waters, Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn the apostle, Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the city he founded.

There all the air is balm, and the peach is the emblem of beauty, And the streets still re-echo the names of the trees of the forest, As if they fain would appease the Dryads whose haunts they molested.

There from the troubled sea had Evangeline landed, an exile, Finding among the children of Penn a home and a country.

There old Rene Leblanc had died; and when he departed, Saw at his side only one of all his hundred descendants.

Something at least there was in the friendly streets of the city, Something that spake to her heart, and made her no longer a stranger; And her ear was pleased with the Thee and Thou of the Quakers, For it recalled the past, the old Acadian country, Where all men were equal, and all were brothers and sisters.

So, when the fruitless search, the disappointed endeavor, Ended, to recommence no more upon earth, uncomplaining, Thither, as leaves to the light, were turned her thoughts and her footsteps.

As from a mountain's top the rainy mists of the morning Roll away, and afar we behold the landscape below us, Sun-illumined, with shining rivers and cities and hamlets, So fell the mists from her mind, and she saw the world far below her, Dark no longer, but all illumined with love; and the pathway Which she had climbed so far, lying smooth and fair in the distance.

Gabriel was not forgotten. Within her heart was his image, Clothed in the beauty of love and youth, as last she beheld him, Only more beautiful made by his deathlike silence and absence.

Into her thoughts of him time entered not, for it was not. Over him years had no power; he was not changed, but transfigured; He had become to her heart as one who is dead, and not absent; Patience and abnegation of self, and devotion to others, This was the lesson a life of trial and sorrow had taught her.

So was her love diffused, but, like to some odorous spices, Suffered no waste nor loss, though filling the air with aroma. Other hope had she none, nor wish in life, but to follow Meekly, with reverent steps, the sacred feet of her Saviour.

Thus many years she lived as a Sister of Mercy; frequenting Lonely and wretched roofs in the crowded lanes of the city, Where distress and want concealed themselves from the sunlight, Where disease and sorrow in garrets languished neglected.

Night after night, when the world was asleep, as the watchman repeated Loud, through the gusty streets, that all was well in the city, High at some lonely window he saw the light of her taper.

Day after day, in the gray of the dawn, as slow through the suburbs Plodded the German farmer, with flowers and fruits for the market, Met he that meek, pale face, returning home from its watchings.

Then it came to pass that a pestilence fell on the city, Presaged by wondrous signs, and mostly by flocks of wild pigeons, Darkening the sun in their flight, with naught in their craws but an acorn.

And, as the tides of the sea arise in the month of September, Flooding some silver stream, till it spreads to a lake in the meadow, So death flooded life, and, o'erflowing its natural margin, Spread to a brackish lake, the silver stream of existence.

Wealth had no power to bribe, nor beauty to charm, the oppressor; But all perished alike beneath the scourge of his anger;— Only, alas!

Then in the suburbs it stood, in the midst of meadows and woodlands;— Now the city surrounds it; but still, with its gateway and wicket Meek, in the midst of splendor, its humble walls seem to echo Softly the words of the Lord:—"The poor ye always have with you.

The dying Looked up into her face, and thought, indeed, to behold there Gleams of celestial light encircle her forehead with splendor, Such as the artist paints o'er the brows of saints and apostles, Or such as hangs by night o'er a city seen at a distance.

Unto their eyes it seemed the lamps of the city celestial, Into whose shining gates erelong their spirits would enter.

Thus, on a Sabbath morn, through the streets, deserted and silent, Wending her quiet way, she entered the door of the almshouse. Sweet on the summer air was the odor of flowers in the garden; And she paused on her way to gather the fairest among them, That the dying once more might rejoice in their fragrance and beauty.

Then, as she mounted the stairs to the corridors, cooled by the east-wind, Distant and soft on her ear fell the chimes from the belfry of Christ Church, While, intermingled with these, across the meadows were wafted Sounds of psalms, that were sung by the Swedes in their church at Wicaco.

Soft as descending wings fell the calm of the hour on her spirit; Something within her said,—"At length thy trials are ended"; And, with light in her looks, she entered the chambers of sickness.

Noiselessly moved about the assiduous, careful attendants, Moistening the feverish lip, and the aching brow, and in silence Closing the sightless eyes of the dead, and concealing their faces, Where on their pallets they lay, like drifts of snow by the roadside.

Many a languid head, upraised as Evangeline entered, Turned on its pillow of pain to gaze while she passed, for her presence Fell on their hearts like a ray of the sun on the walls of a prison.

And, as she looked around, she saw how Death, the consoler, Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed it forever. Many familiar forms had disappeared in the night time; Vacant their places were, or filled already by strangers.

Suddenly, as if arrested by fear or a feeling of wonder, Still she stood, with her colorless lips apart, while a shudder Ran through her frame, and, forgotten, the flowerets dropped from her fingers, And from her eyes and cheeks the light and bloom of the morning.

Then there escaped from her lips a cry of such terrible anguish, That the dying heard it, and started up from their pillows.

On the pallet before her was stretched the form of an old man. Long, and thin, and gray were the locks that shaded his temples; But, as he lay in the in morning light, his face for a moment Seemed to assume once more the forms of its earlier manhood; So are wont to be changed the faces of those who are dying.

Hot and red on his lips still burned the flush of the fever, As if life, like the Hebrew, with blood had besprinkled its portals, That the Angel of Death might see the sign, and pass over.

Motionless, senseless, dying, he lay, and his spirit exhausted Seemed to be sinking down through infinite depths in the darkness, Darkness of slumber and death, forever sinking and sinking.

Then through those realms of shade, in multiplied reverberations, Heard he that cry of pain, and through the hush that succeeded Whispered a gentle voice, in accents tender and saint-like, "Gabriel!

Then he beheld, in a dream, once more the home of his childhood; Green Acadian meadows, with sylvan rivers among them, Village, and mountain, and woodlands; and, walking under their shadow, As in the days of her youth, Evangeline rose in his vision.

Tears came into his eyes; and as slowly he lifted his eyelids, Vanished the vision away, but Evangeline knelt by his bedside.

Vainly he strove to whisper her name, for the accents unuttered Died on his lips, and their motion revealed what his tongue would have spoken.

Vainly he strove to rise; and Evangeline, kneeling beside him, Kissed his dying lips, and laid his head on her bosom.

Sweet was the light of his eyes; but it suddenly sank into darkness, As when a lamp is blown out by a gust of wind at a casement. All was ended now, the hope, and the fear, and the sorrow, All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing, All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of patience!

And, as she pressed once more the lifeless head to her bosom, Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured, "Father, I thank thee!

Still stands the forest primeval; but far away from its shadow, Side by side, in their nameless graves, the lovers are sleeping.

Under the humble walls of the little Catholic churchyard, In the heart of the city, they lie, unknown and unnoticed. Daily the tides of life go ebbing and flowing beside them, Thousands of throbbing hearts, where theirs are at rest and forever, Thousands of aching brains, where theirs no longer are busy, Thousands of toiling hands, where theirs have ceased from their labors, Thousands of weary feet, where theirs have completed their journey!

Still stands the forest primeval; but under the shade of its branches Dwells another race, with other customs and language. Only along the shore of the mournful and misty Atlantic Linger a few Acadian peasants, whose fathers from exile Wandered back to their native land to die in its bosom.

In the fisherman's cot the wheel and the loom are still busy; Maidens still wear their Norman caps and their kirtles of homespun, And by the evening fire repeat Evangeline's story, While from its rocky caverns the deep-voiced, neighboring ocean Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest.

How soon the night overtakes us! In the old country the twilight is longer; but here in the forest Suddenly comes the dark, with hardly a pause in its coming, Hardly a moment between the two lights, the day and the lamplight; Yet how grand is the winter!

How spotless the snow is, and perfect! Thus spake Elizabeth Haddon at nightfall to Hannah the housemaid, As in the farm-house kitchen, that served for kitchen and parlor, By the window she sat with her work, and looked on a landscape White as the great white sheet that Peter saw in his vision, By the four corners let down and descending out of the heavens.

Covered with snow were the forests of pine, and the fields and the meadows. Nothing was dark but the sky, and the distant Delaware flowing Down from its native hills, a peaceful and bountiful river.

But the great Delaware River is not like the Thames, as we saw it Out of our upper windows in Rotherhithe Street in the Borough, Crowded with masts and sails of vessels coming and going; Here there is nothing but pines, with patches of snow on their branches.

There is snow in the air, and see! Meanwhile Hannah the housemaid had closed and fastened the shutters, Spread the cloth, and lighted the lamp on the table, and placed there Plates and cups from the dresser, the brown rye loaf, and the butter Fresh from the dairy, and then, protecting her hand with a holder, Took from the crane in the chimney the steaming and simmering kettle, Poised it aloft in the air, and filled up the earthen teapot, Made in Delft, and adorned with quaint and wonderful figures.

Joseph is long on his errand. I have sent him away with a hamper of food and of clothing For the poor in the village.

A good lad and cheerful is Joseph; In the right place is his heart, and his hand is ready and willing. His, not mine, are the gifts, and only so far can I make them Mine, as in giving I add my heart to whatever is given.

Therefore my excellent father first built this house in the clearing; Though he came not himself, I came; for the Lord was my guidance, Leading me here for this service.

We must not grudge, then, to others Ever the cup of cold water, or crumbs that fall from our table. No one spake, till at length a young man, a stranger, John Estaugh, Moved by the Spirit, rose, as if he were John the Apostle, Speaking such words of power that they bowed our hearts, as a strong wind Bends the grass of the fields, or grain that is ripe for the sickle.

Thoughts of him to-day have been oft borne inward upon me, Wherefore I do not know; but strong is the feeling within me That once more I shall see a face I have never forgotten.

Down from its nail she took and lighted the great tin lantern Pierced with holes, and round, and roofed like the top of a lighthouse, And went forth to receive the coming guest at the doorway, Casting into the dark a network of glimmer and shadow Over the falling snow, the yellow sleigh, and the horses, And the forms of men, snow-covered, looming gigantic.

Then giving Joseph the lantern, she entered the house with the stranger. After so many Years have passed, it seemeth a wonderful thing that I find thee.

Surely the hand of the Lord conducted me here to thy threshold. For as I journeyed along, and pondered alone and in silence On his ways, that are past finding out, I saw in the snow-mist, Seemingly weary with travel, a wayfarer, who by the wayside Paused and waited.

So I greeted the man, and he mounted the sledge beside me, And as we talked on the way he told me of thee and thy homestead, How, being led by the light of the Spirit, that never deceiveth, Full of zeal for the work of the Lord, thou hadst come to this country.

And I remembered thy name, and thy father and mother in England, And on my journey have stopped to see thee, Elizabeth Haddon. Wishing to strengthen thy hand in the labors of love thou art doing.

Then, with stamping of feet, the door was opened, and Joseph Entered, bearing the lantern, and, carefully blowing the light out, Hung it up on its nail, and all sat down to their supper; For underneath that roof was no distinction of persons, But one family only, one heart, one hearth and one household.

When the supper was ended they drew their chairs to the fireplace, Spacious, open-hearted, profuse of flame and of firewood, Lord of forests unfelled, and not a gleaner of fagots, Spreading its arms to embrace with inexhaustible bounty All who fled from the cold, exultant, laughing at winter!

Only Hannah the housemaid was busy in clearing the table, Coming and going, and hustling about in closet and chamber.

Then Elizabeth told her story again to John Estaugh, Going far back to the past, to the early days of her childhood; How she had waited and watched, in all her doubts and besetments Comforted with the extendings and holy, sweet inflowings Of the spirit of love, till the voice imperative sounded, And she obeyed the voice, and cast in her lot with her people Here in the desert land, and God would provide for the issue.

Meanwhile Joseph sat with folded hands, and demurely Listened, or seemed to listen, and in the silence that followed Nothing was heard for a while but the step of Hannah the housemaid Walking the floor overhead, and setting the chambers in order.

Silently over that house the blessing of slumber descended. But when the morning dawned, and the sun uprose in his splendor, Breaking his way through clouds that encumbered his path in the heavens, Joseph was seen with his sled and oxen breaking a pathway Through the drifts of snow; the horses already were harnessed, And John Estaugh was standing and taking leave at the threshold, Saying that he should return at the Meeting in May; while above them Hannah the housemaid, the homely, was looking out of the attic, Laughing aloud at Joseph, then suddenly closing the casement, As the bird in a cuckoo-clock peeps out of its window, Then disappears again, and closes the shutter behind it.

Now was the winter gone, and the snow; and Robin the Redbreast Boasted on bush and tree it was he, it was he and no other That had covered with leaves the Babes in the Wood, and blithely All the birds sang with him, and little cared for his boasting, Or for his Babes in the Wood, or the Cruel Uncle, and only Sang for the mates they had chosen, and cared for the nests they were building.

With them, but more sedately and meekly, Elizabeth Haddon Sang in her inmost heart, but her lips were silent and songless. Thus came the lovely spring with a rush of blossoms and music, Flooding the earth with flowers, and the air with melodies vernal.

Then it came to pass, one pleasant morning, that slowly Up the road there came a cavalcade, as of pilgrims Men and women, wending their way to the Quarterly Meeting In the neighboring town; and with them came riding John Estaugh.

It was a pleasure to breathe the fragrant air of the forest; It was a pleasure to live on that bright and happy May morning!

But I have yet no light to lead me, no voice to direct me. We will not speak of it further. It hath been laid upon me to tell thee this, for to-morrow Thou art going away, across the sea, and I know not When I shall see thee more; but if the Lord hath decreed it, Thou wilt return again to seek me here and to find me.

Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another, Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.

Now went on as of old the quiet life of the homestead. Patient and unrepining Elizabeth labored, in all things Mindful not of herself, but bearing the burdens of others, Always thoughtful and kind and untroubled; and Hannah the housemaid Diligent early and late, and rosy with washing and scouring, Still as of old disparaged the eminent merits of Joseph, And was at times reproved for her light and frothy behavior, For her shy looks, and her careless words, and her evil surmisings, Being pressed down somewhat like a cart with sheaves overladen, As she would sometimes say to Joseph, quoting the Scriptures.

O lost days of delight, that are wasted in doubting and waiting! O lost hours and days in which we might have been happy!

But the light shone at last, and guided his wavering footsteps, And at last came the voice, imperative, questionless, certain.

And on the First-Day that followed, he rose in the Silent Assembly, Holding in his strong hand a hand that trembled a little, Promising to be kind and true and faithful in all things.

Such were the marriage rites of John and Elizabeth Estaugh. In his chamber all alone, Kneeling on the floor of stone, Prayed the Monk in deep contrition For his sins of indecision, Prayed for greater self-denial In temptation and in trial; It was noonday by the dial, And the Monk was all alone.

Suddenly, as if it lightened, An unwonted splendor brightened All within him and without him In that narrow cell of stone; And he saw the Blessed Vision Of our Lord, with light Elysian Like a vesture wrapped about him, Like a garment round him thrown.

Not as crucified and slain, Not in agonies of pain, Not with bleeding hands and feet, Did the Monk his Master see; But as in the village street, In the house or harvest-field, Halt and lame and blind he healed, When he walked in Galilee.

In an attitude imploring, Hands upon his bosom crossed, Wondering, worshipping, adoring, Knelt the Monk in rapture lost. Lord, he thought, in heaven that reignest, Who am I, that thus thou deignest To reveal thyself to me?

Who am I, that from the centre Of thy glory thou shouldst enter This poor cell, my guest to be? Then amid his exaltation, Loud the convent bell appalling, From its belfry calling, calling, Rang through court and corridor With persistent iteration He had never heard before.

Deep distress and hesitation Mingled with his adoration; Should he go, or should he stay? Should he leave the poor to wait Hungry at the convent gate, Till the Vision passed away?

Should he slight his radiant guest, Slight this visitant celestial, For a crowd of ragged, bestial Beggars at the convent gate?

Would the Vision there remain? Would the Vision come again? Straightway to his feet he started, And with longing look intent On the Blessed Vision bent, Slowly from his cell departed, Slowly on his errand went.

At the gate the poor were waiting, Looking through the iron grating, With that terror in the eye That is only seen in those Who amid their wants and woes Hear the sound of doors that close, And of feet that pass them by; Grown familiar with disfavor, Grown familiar with the savor Of the bread by which men die!

But to-day, they knew not why, Like the gate of Paradise Seemed the convent gate to rise, Like a sacrament divine Seemed to them the bread and wine.

Unto me! Thus his conscience put the question, Full of troublesome suggestion, As at length, with hurried pace, Towards his cell he turned his face, And beheld the convent bright With a supernatural light, Like a luminous cloud expanding Over floor and wall and ceiling.

But he paused with awe-struck feeling At the threshold of his door, For the Vision still was standing As he left it there before, When the convent bell appalling, From its belfry calling, calling, Summoned him to feed the poor.

National Poetry Month. Materials for Teachers Teach This Poem. Poems for Kids. Poetry for Teens. Lesson Plans.

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Evangeline: A Tale of Acadie. Generations of American children read, memorized, and recited the poem as part of their schooling.

Schools, churches, inns, and many other businesses and social groups were named for the poem's heroine. Other authors capitalized on the success of the poem by writing alternate versions of the story.

In his telling, the lovers are reunited under an oak tree in the Louisiana town of St. Martinville, but when Evangeline discovers that Gabriel has fallen in love with another woman, she goes mad and dies.

This version became very popular in Voorhies' home state, where his novel was often taken as historical fact. Longfellow's Evangeline created a tourist industry in the lands of the Acadians.

Visitors are still drawn to sites such as the Longfellow-Evangeline State Historic Site in Louisiana, which interprets the lifestyle of the Acadian settlers.

Once there, it is just a short ride to St. Martinville to see the "Evangeline Oak" which features so prominently in Voorhies' version of the story.

Evangeline's most lasting impact has been on Acadians themselves, both in Nova Scotia and in Louisiana.

According to Yale historian John Mack Farragher, author of A Great and Noble Scheme: The Tragic Story of the Expulsion of the French Acadians from their American Homeland , "[T]he poem struck a spark igniting a cultural and political renaissance among the small Acadian middle class that began to emerge in the second half of the nineteenth century.

In , to commemorate the four hundredth anniversary of the arrival of the French in North America, a two-week reunion was held there. Martinville also lay claim to marking the original meeting place of Emmeline and Louis.

Another site claiming to have relation to the historical figures that Evangeline was based upon is the Arceneaux House in Hamshire, Texas , which is marked by a Texas Historical Marker.

The house was given to Mary Gadrac Arceneaux, great-great-granddaughter of Louis Arceneaux by her husband. Evangeline has also been the namesake of many places in Louisiana and the Canadian Maritime Provinces.

It is also often used as a street name in Acadian communities. There have also been numerous film adaptations of the poem Evangeline.

Evangeline was the first Canadian feature film, produced in by Canadian Bioscope of Halifax. In , Raoul Walsh made a film based on the poem for 20th Century Fox.

It was suggested by and starred his wife Miriam Cooper. The film was one of the duo's biggest hits but is now lost. Evangeline is also referenced in the Disney film The Princess and the Frog , wherein a Cajun firefly named Raymond falls in love with Evangeline, who appears as a star.

Following his death, they are reunited and appear side-by-side in the night sky. The poem was first adapted into a theatrical musical in , as Evangeline; or, The Belle of Acadia , which was a Broadway success through the late 19th century.

The production featured Brent Carver as the father. From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Epic poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. For other uses, see Evangeline disambiguation.

McGill-Queen's University Press. Gaspereau Press. University of Iowa Press. Hawthorne in Concord: Nathaniel Hawthorne.

Longfellow: A Rediscovered Life. The almanac of American letters. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Oxford University Press. Archived from the original on Retrieved Acadia before the conquest of Canada.

Columbia University Press. Crossroads: A Southern Culture Annual. Mercer University Press.

From that day began the patient waiting of the mourning Evangeline and the long absence of her Gabriel. For all you Beatles fans across the universe, all you need is this quiz to prove how well you know your Beatles music.

Ballads are arguably the most popular form of songs the Beatles were known for. What is a ballad? Evangeline 2. Example sentences from the Web for evangeline Whatever comfort Evangeline may have given Ford, it could not compensate for the death of his greatest creation.

Nat Goodwin's Book Nat C. I have mixed feelings about Evangeline. On the one hand, it looks beautiful written out, has the lovely Eve sound, and the nicknames are adorable.

On the other hand, I can't help but hear the 'gel' and 'van' sounds in the middle, and it sounds a little spoiled and arrogant, especially if you don't use a nn.

Classic, elegant, and pretty, but maybe just too much. This name is soooooo pretty and it's not that common where I live.

Angelina and Angelica is however and I think Evangeline is a pretty alternative. Though this name has greek roots, its origin, as I understand it, is from Longfellow's poem about the Acadian deportation.

Her character is a very important figure in Acadian culture: the canadian eastern provinces all have places named after her, there is an oak in Martinville, LA commemorating the deportation and her character and more places in her honour in Lafayette.

Though the poem is not about a real person, it resonates very strongly for Acadian people and her story has taken on mythical proportions.

I recommend you do a wikipedia search of the name, if it's on your list. Our daughter's name is Evangeline, nn Eva. We went with the middle name Joy, something short and sweet to pair with a long name, however, we often call her "Eva Joy" when trying to get her attention.

We felt it was a name she could grow into, if she didn't want to be known as Eva as an adult. I love this name! I think that it is so elegant and beautiful and classic-sounding.

There's a sweet little baby at my church whose name is Evangeline, and both Nanny McPhee and The Princess and the Frog are great movies, so Evangeline has zero negative associations for me.

And I love the nn Evie! Interestingly enough, the Princess and the Frog reference is in itself a reference to Longfellow's poem :.

Evangeline also was made popular again thanks to Disney's movie the Princess and the frog. Evangeline is my daughter's middle name. I had wanted it as her first but my husband insisted on it being her second.

She is 10 months old now and I still regret not making it her first name :o. I still don't get why people love this name! It's bizarre to me.

I really don't like the similarity to the word "evangelize" and it just seems like a hyper-religious name. It's frilly to the point of excess.

I'm genuinely surprised that people use "Angie" as a nickname. I'd think Eva or Evvie would be more natural. Ginny is just how it looks.

Hey vintageisfave, we are seriously considering naming our baby girl 2 Evangeline, but worried she'll get the nn Ange. How do you pronounce Ginny - is it how it looks, or as in 'Jeanie'?

If it's Ginny, I love it!! I think this is a beautiful namehowever it rhymes with our last name, so it just becomes too much for us all together This is a beautiful name.

It would be on our list, except that my best friend always wanted to name her child that, and even though she probably won't have any more children, I'm not sure how she'd feel about it.

Anyway, I think it's a keeper! A beautiful and unique name. While still being a real name. Not really common here.

Iv'e only met one. Evie, Lina, Eve, Gigi and Eva are cute nicknames. This is my daughters name. I never dreamed people would struggle so much with what I considered to be a classic!

We named our daughter Evangeline. We call her Evie soft e at the beginning. We've gotten mixed reviews. Some people have to hear it 3 or 4 times before they get it.

Other people look totally confused - like I just told them my beautiful daughters name was Plutoarabica or something totally random.

The majority of people genuinely love it. They say, 'oh, it's unique and unusual without being weird. We thought it would look nice in invitations, resumes, etc in her future.

One person suggested we call her 'vangie' which sounds like a nickname for vagina to me. This is such a gorgeous name!

I love it, but I'm not sure I'd use it when it comes to naming a real-life daughter because I hesitate on its being too elaborate and frilly.

Everything else about it though, I adore- its meaning, the spelling and way it sounds There's also beautiful nicknames galore, from Eve, Eva, Evie, Angel, Angeline, or the full name itself though it is really long, and would most likely be shortened most of the time.

This is my daughter's name. She is 5 and just started kindergarten. We call her Evie for short. Every time I tell people my daughter's name, I am met with very enthusiastic reviews.

People often exclaim, "Wow, what a beautiful name. My fiances name is Evan and that's part of why I love this name! I would love to name a daughter after him.

I am not pregnant right now but always picking out names for our future children and this is one name that comes up every single time. My daugther name is Evangelyn and for nick name we use Vangie!

One thing for sure people tent to get confuse and call her Evelyn I don't understand why when there's obviously a G in the middle of the name.

My friend wants to name her baby this but her cousin said she might get called Evagaline. What do you all think?

This is my daughter's name and we love it. She gets Evie for short. I didn't think it would be as popular as it is but I have to put our surname initial on her things for preschool because there is another Evangeline.

When I was 11 or 12 I went to summer camp where there was a girl named Evangeline. I thought "hmmm that's very religious" but nowadays I think it's gorgeous!

Gorgeous name! My 13 year old's name is Evangeline and she goes by Evan. I never thought this name would become popular. It wasn't even in the top back in She is named after the song Evangeline by Mathew Sweet.

I hope she decides to go by it someday but luckily I like Evan too.