“Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining” — 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
The hooded clouds, like friars, Tell their beads in drops of rain. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Some poems are like the Centaurs--a mingling of man and beast, and begotten of Ixion on a cloud. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Read from some humbler poet, Whose songs gushed from his heart, As showers from the clouds of summer, Or tears from the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Each new epoch in life seems an encounter. There is a tussle and a cloud of dust, and we come out of… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
See yonder little cloud, that, borne aloft So tenderly by the wind, floats fast away Over the snowy peaks! — 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
Nature paints not; In oils, but frescoes the great dome of heaven; With sunsets, and the lovely forms of clouds; And flying… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; Thy fate is the common fate of… — 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
When thou are not pleased, beloved, Then my heart is sad and darkened, As the shining river darkens When the clouds drop… — 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 moon is hidden behind a cloud... On the leaves is a sound of falling rain... No other sounds than these I… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
After a day of cloud and wind and rain Sometimes the setting sun breaks out again, And touching all the darksome woods… — 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
Nothing that is can pause or stay; / The moon will wax, the moon will wane, / The mist and cloud will… — 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
There is a beautiful spirit breathing now Its mellowed richness on the clustered trees, And, from a beaker full of richest dyes,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary; The vine still clings to the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
By unseen hands uplifted in the light Of sunset, yonder solitary cloud Floats, with its white apparel blown abroad, And wafted up… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
I love the season well When forest glades are teeming with bright forms, Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell The coming of… — 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
