Like so much of Longfellow, this one takes a surprising figure -- the arsenal as a musical instrument -- and makes it seem altogether right. I think it is also typical in that its very fluidity probably works against its being much appreciated these days as a work of art. It doesn't bear the marks of its own creation.
By the way, all those images from ages past remind me a little of another once popular and now utterly forgotten poet, Edwin Markham. He never approached Longfellow's standing, but for some years he was probably one of the ten most popular living American poets. His "The Man with the Hoe" still works, and he has some other solid poems.
RPW
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