Each morning sees some task begin, each evening sees it close. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Great is the art of beginning, but greater is the art of ending. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Day, like a weary pilgrim, had reached the western gate of heaven, and Evening stooped down to unloose the latchets of his… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Each morning sees some task begun, each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done, has earned a night's repose. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Burn, O evening hearth, and waken Pleasant visions, as of old! Though the house by winds be shaken, Safe I keep this… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
How beautiful the silent hour, when morning and evening thus sit together, hand in hand, beneath the starless sky of midnight! — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The setting of a great hope is like the setting of the sun. The brightness of our life is gone. Shadows of… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Softly the evening came. The sun from the western horizon Like a magician extended his golden want o'er the landscape; Trinkling vapors… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
I venerate old age; and I love not the man who can look without emotion upon the sunset of life, when the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The shadows of the mind are like those of the body. In the morning of life they all lie behind us; at… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Thus departed Hiawatha, Hiawatha the Beloved, In the glory of the sunset, In the purple mists of evening, To the regions of… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Some feelings are quite untranslatable; no language has yet been found for them. They gleam upon us beautifully through the dim twilight… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Under the spreading chestnut tree The village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands; And… — 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
