Love makes its record in deeper colors as we grow out of childhood into manhood. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Listen my children and you shall hear, Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
O thou child of many prayers! Life hath quicksands, Life hath snares! Care and age come unawares! — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Art is the child of nature in whom we trace the features of the mothers face. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Will without power is like children playing at soldiers. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
A torn jacket is soon mended; but hard words bruise the heart of a child. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Love is the root of creation; God's essence; worlds without number Lie in his bosom like children; he made them for this… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Then followed that beautiful season... Summer… Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape Lay as if… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The spring came suddenly, bursting upon the world as a child bursts into a room, with a laugh and a shout and… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Love makes its record in deeper colors as we grow out of childhood into manhood; as the Emperors signed their names in… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Between the dark and the daylight, When the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the day's occupations, That is… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
I have a passion for ballad. . . . They are the gypsy children of song, born under green hedgerows in the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Ah! What would the world be to us If the children were no more? We should dread the desert behind us Worse… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Many people do not allow their principles to take root, but pull them up every now and then, as children do the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
It is the Harvest Moon! On gilded vanes and roofs of villages, on woodland crests and their aerial neighborhoods of nests deserted,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Art is the child of Nature; yes, Her darling child, in whom we trace The features of the mother's face, Her aspect… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
How can I teach your children gentleness and mercy to the weak, and reverence for life, which in its nakedness and excess,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
“Thus it is our daughters leave us, Those we love, and those who love us! Just when they have learned to help… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Ah, how wonderful is the advent of the Spring!—the great annual miracle… which no force can stay, no violence restrain, like love,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
As a fond mother, when the day is o'er, Leads by the hand her little child to bed, Half willing, half reluctant… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Men are four; He who knows and knows not that he knows. He is asleep; wake him. He who knows not and… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
“The Children's Hour Between the dark and the daylight, When the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the day's… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
What child has a heart to sing in this capricious clime of ours, when spring comes sailing in from the sea, with… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
I am never indifferent, and never pretend to be, to what people say or think of my books. They are my children,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The spring came suddenly, bursting upon the world as a child bursts into a room, with a laugh and a shout and hands full… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share
In old age our bodies are worn-out instruments, on which the soul tries in vain to play the melodies of youth. But because the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share
“ Endymion The rising moon has hid the stars; Her level rays, like golden bars, Lie on the landscape green, With shadows brown between.… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share
There's nothing fair nor beautiful, but takes Something from thee, that makes it beautiful. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share
Fame comes only when deserved, and then is as inevitable as destiny, for it is destiny. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share
Nature paints not; In oils, but frescoes the great dome of heaven; With sunsets, and the lovely forms of clouds; And flying vapors. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share
“ Thus dwelt together in love these simple Acadian farmers,— Dwelt in the love of God and of man. Alike were they free from Fear,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share
The trees are white with dust, that o'er their sleep Wave their broad curtains in the south-wind's breath, While underneath such leafy tents they… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share
Heights by great men reached and kept were not obtained by sudden flight but, while their companions slept, they were toiling upward in the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share
Ah, how skillful grows the hand That obeyeth Love's command! It is the heart, and not the brain, That to the highest doth attain,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share
Thus departed Hiawatha, Hiawatha the Beloved, In the glory of the sunset, In the purple mists of evening, To the regions of the home-wind,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share
Morality without religion is only a kind of dead reckoning - an endeavor to find our place on a cloudy sea by measuring the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share
Buried was the bloody hatchet; Buried was the dreadful war-club; Buried were all warlike weapons, And the war-cry was forgotten. Then was peace among… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share
