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Personification:
There is a mountain in the distant West

That, sun-defying, in its deep ravines
Displays a cross of snow upon its side.

Such is the cross I wear upon my breast

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Personification: the attribution of human nature or character to animals, inanimate objects, or abstract notions, especially as a rhetorical figure.

Rhyme: identity in sound of some part, especially the end, of words or lines of verse.

Repetition: the act of repeating, or doing, saying, or writing something again.

Hyperbole: obvious and intentional exaggeration.

Symbolism: the practice of representing things by symbols, or of investing things with a symbolic meaning or character.

Benedight: Archaic

Martyrdom: Suffering or dying for your beliefs

Repose: be lying, situated, or kept in a particular place.

The type of sonnet of this poem is Petrarchan which is an Italian sonnet, describing a subject, then comparing that subject to something else at the end.

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The poem is about a man who loves his wife and uncontrollably thinks about his wife all the time. She has died 18 years prior and can't get over it. It shows that even when someone dies you can still feel his or her presence.

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This poem basically talks about the death of a loved one, and how the presence of them is still there.

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Born in Portland, Maine in 1807

death in 1882

went to bowdoin college

later taught english in cambridge massachusetts.

He also lived in the house of george washington in cambridge

http://www.hwlongfellow.org/life_overview.shtml

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Wadsworth_Longfellow

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In the long, sleepless watches of the night,

A gentle face — the face of one long dead —

Looks at me from the wall, where round its head

The night-lamp casts a halo of pale light.

Here in this room she died; and soul more white

Never through martyrdom of fire was led

To its repose; nor can in books be read

The legend of a life more benedight.

There is a mountain in the distant West

That, sun-defying, in its deep ravines

Displays a cross of snow upon its side.

Such is the cross I wear upon my breast

These eighteen years, through all the changing scenes

And seasons, changeless since the day she died.