Children Quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Art is the child of Nature.

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

A boy's will is the wind's will.

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Art is the child of nature in whom we trace the features of the mothers face.

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

O thou child of many prayers! Life hath quicksands, Life hath snares! Care and age come unawares!

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Listen my children and you shall hear, Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Love makes its record in deeper colors as we grow out of childhood into manhood.

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

A torn jacket is soon mended; but hard words bruise the heart of a child.

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Will without power is like children playing at soldiers.

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I have a passion for ballad. . . . They are the gypsy children of song, born under green hedgerows in the…

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“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

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

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

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

“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

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

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