When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares, that infest the day, Shall fold their tents like the Arabs,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
O Music! language of the soul, Of love, of God to man; Bright beam from heaven thrilling, That lightens sorrow's weight. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The great tragedy of the average man is that he goes to his grave with his music still in him. — 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… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Then from the neighboring thicket the mocking-bird, wildest of singers, Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er the water, Shook… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Mine is the Month of Roses; yes, and mine The Month of Marriages! All pleasant sights And scents, the fragrance of the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
“ The Day is Done The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is… — 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
