The Builders by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

    ‘The Builders’ by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow is a nine stanza poem that is separated into sets of four lines, or quatrains. Each of these quatrains follows a consistent and structured rhyming pattern of abab, alternating as the poet saw fit throughout the entire piece. Additionally, the poet has chosen to format each line of the poem with seven syllables. This adds to the consistency developed through the pattern of rhyme.

    We are the architects and builders of our lives and if we want to attain our own version of success, we must put in the hard work and energy.

Summary of The Builders

      The poem begins with the speaker stating that all people, no matter who they are, have contributed to the history and “walls of time.” No one’s deeds are useless, valueless, or going unnoticed. He makes sure the reader is aware that the small “deeds” supplement the “massive.” One cannot exist without the other. 

    Throughout the text, he speaks on the importance of maintaining a constructive relationship with history. The speaker believes that any listening to, or reading this poem should focus on the structures they are building. Without a strong base one’s life will come unhinged and one will be unable to reach the turrets at the end of life. It is from here one can see across the expanse of the earth and find true understanding.

The Builders

All are architects of Fate,

Working in these walls of Time;

Some with massive deeds and great,

Some with ornaments of rhyme.

Nothing useless is, or low;

Each thing in its place is best;

And what seems but idle show

Strengthens and supports the rest.

For the structure that we raise,

Time is with materials filled;

Our to-days and yesterdays

Are the blocks with which we build.

Truly shape and fashion these;

Leave no yawning gaps between;

Think not, because no man sees,

Such things will remain unseen.

In the elder days of Art,

Builders wrought with greatest care

Each minute and unseen part;

For the Gods see everywhere.

Let us do our work as well,

Both the unseen and the seen;

Make the house, where Gods may dwell,

Beautiful, entire, and clean.

Else our lives are incomplete,

Standing in these walls of Time,

Broken stairways, where the feet

Stumble as they seek to climb.

Build to-day, then, strong and sure,

With a firm and ample base;

And ascending and secure

Shall to-morrow find its place.

Thus alone can we attain

To those turrets, where the eye

Sees the world as one vast plain,

And one boundless reach of sky.

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