The day is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind in never weary; The vine still clings to the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The tide rises, the tide falls, The twilight darkens, the curlew calls; The little waves, with their soft, white hands, Efface the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
“ The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls The tide rises, the tide falls, The twilight darkens, the curlew calls; Along the sea-sands… — 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
Thus thought I, as by night I read Of the great army of the dead, The trenches cold and damp, The starved… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
O ye dead Poets, who are living still Immortal in your verse, though life be fled, And ye, O living Poets, who… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Each day is a branch of the Tree of Life laden heavily with fruit. If we lie down lazily beneath it, we… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The sunshine fails, the shadows grow more dreary, And I am near to fall, infirm and weary. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
It is autumn; not without But within me is the cold. Youth and spring are all about; It is I that have… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls; The day returns, but nevermore Returns the… — 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
.... Anon from the castle walls The crescent banner falls, And the crowd beholds instead, Like a portent in the sky, Iskander's… — 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
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
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
There in seclusion and remote from men The wizard hand lies cold, Which at its topmost speed let fall the pen, And… — 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
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
The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
All things are symbols: the external shows Of Nature have their image in the mind , As flowers and fruits and falling… — 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
