The air is full of farewells to the dying. And mournings for the dead. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Every dew-drop and rain-drop had a whole heaven within it. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Through woods and mountain passes The winds, like anthems, roll. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
I shot an arrow into the air, it fell to earth, I knew not where. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Authors must not, like Chinese soldiers, expect to win victories by turning somersets in the air. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The sun is set; and in his latest beams Yon little cloud of ashen gray and gold, Slowly upon the amber air… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Chill air and wintry winds! My ear has grown familiar with your song; I hear it in the opening year, I listen,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Sweet is the air with the budding haws, and the valley stretching for miles below Is white with blossoming cherry-trees, as if… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
'Twas Easter-Sunday. The full-blossomed trees Filled all the air with fragrance and with joy. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Very hot and still the air was, Very smooth the gliding river, Motionless the sleeping shadows. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
I hear the wind among the trees Playing the celestial symphonies; I see the branches downward bent, Like keys of some great… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The spirit-world around this world of sense Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere Wafts through these earthly mists and vapours dense A… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
So disasters come not singly; But as if they watched and waited, Scanning one another's motions, When the first descends, the others… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Out of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The morrow was a bright September morn; The earth was beautiful as if newborn; There was nameless splendor everywhere, That wild exhilaration… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Then from the neighboring thicket the mocking-bird, wildest of singers, Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er the water, Shook… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Truths that startled the generation in which they were first announced become in the next age the commonplaces of conversation; as the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The bells themselves are the best of preachers, Their brazen lips are learned teachers, From their pulpits of stone, in the upper… — 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
In the life of every man there are sudden transitions of feeling, which seem almost miraculous. At once, as if some magician… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The Laws of Nature are just, but terrible. There is no weak mercy in them. Cause and consequence are inseparable and inevitable.… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
How absolute and omnipotent is the silence of night! And yet the stillness seems almost audible! From all the measureless depths of… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
I shot an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
A word that has been said may be unsaid-it is but air. But when a deed is done, it cannot be undone,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Torrent of light and river of air, Along whose bed the glimmering stars are seen, Like gold and silver sands in some… — 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
