As I gaze upon the sea! All the old romantic legends, all my dreams, come back to me. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
How in the turmoil of life can love stand, Where there is not one heart, and one mouth and one hand. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
What heart has not acknowledged the influence of this hour, the sweet and soothing hour of twilight, the hour of love, the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
“Straight between them ran the pathway, Never grew the grass upon it” — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Enjoy the Spring of Love and Youth, to some good angel leave the rest; For Time will teach thee soon the truth,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Dead he is not, but departed, for the artist never dies. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
As the heart is, so is love to the heart. It partakes of its strength or weakness, its health or disease. — 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
“Unasked, Unsought, Love gives itself but is not bought” — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The dawn is not distant, nor is the night starless; love is eternal. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Sail forth into the sea of life, O gentle, loving, trusting wife, And safe from all adversity Upon the bosom of that… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
I have you fast in my fortress, And will not let you depart, But put you down into the dungeon, In the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
I love an author the more for having been himself a lover of books. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
More hearts are breaking in this world of ours Than one would say. In distant villages And solitudes remote, where winds have… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
That was the first sound in the song of love! Scarce more than silence is, and yet a sound. Hands of invisible… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Love is a bodily shape; and Christian works are no more than animate faith and love, as flowers are the animate springtide. — 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
