From my Arm-Chair Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "From my Arm-Chair" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
Am I a king, that I should call my own
  This splendid ebon throne?
Or by what reason, or what right divine,
  Can I proclaim it mine?
Only, perhaps, by right divine of song
  It may to me belong;
Only because the spreading chestnut tree
  Of old was sung by me.
Well I remember it in all its prime,
  When in the summer-time
The affluent foliage of its branches made
  A cavern of cool shade.
There, by the blacksmith's forge, beside the street,
  Its blossoms white and sweet
Enticed the bees, until it seemed alive,
  And murmured like a hive.
And when the winds of autumn, with a shout,
  Tossed its great arms about,
The shining chestnuts, bursting from the sheath,
  Dropped to the ground beneath.
And now some fragments of its branches bare,
  Shaped as a stately chair,
Have by my hearthstone found a home at last,
  And whisper of the past.
  This splendid ebon throne?
Or by what reason, or what right divine,
  Can I proclaim it mine?
Only, perhaps, by right divine of song
  It may to me belong;
Only because the spreading chestnut tree
  Of old was sung by me.
Well I remember it in all its prime,
  When in the summer-time
The affluent foliage of its branches made
  A cavern of cool shade.
There, by the blacksmith's forge, beside the street,
  Its blossoms white and sweet
Enticed the bees, until it seemed alive,
  And murmured like a hive.
And when the winds of autumn, with a shout,
  Tossed its great arms about,
The shining chestnuts, bursting from the sheath,
  Dropped to the ground beneath.
And now some fragments of its branches bare,
  Shaped as a stately chair,
Have by my hearthstone found a home at last,
  And whisper of the past.
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