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… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
There is no death! What seems so is transition; this life of mortal breath is but a suburb of the life elysian,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The hearts of some women tremble like leaves at every breath of love which reaches them, and they are still again. Others,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
There is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
I am the Angel of the Sun Whose flaming wheels began to run When God's almighty breath Said to the darkness and… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Southward with fleet of ice Sailed the corsair Death; Wild and fast blew the blast, And the east-wind was his breath. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Big words do not smite like war-clubs, Boastful breath is not a bow-string, Taunts are not so sharp as arrows, Deeds are… — 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
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 Image
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 Image
“ 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 Image
There's nothing fair nor beautiful, but takes Something from thee, that makes it beautiful. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Fame comes only when deserved, and then is as inevitable as destiny, for it is destiny. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
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 Image
“ 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 Image
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 Image
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 Image
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 Image
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 Image
