Explore "Tales of a Wayside Inn" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
These are the tales those merry guests / Told to each other, well or ill; / Like summer birds that lift their crests / Above the borders of their nests / And twitter, and again are still.
These are the tales, or new or old, / In idle moments idly told; / Flowers of the field with petals thin, / Lilies that neither toil nor spin, / And tufts of wayside weeds and gorse / Hung in the parlor of the inn / Beneath the sign of the Red Horse.