The surest pledge of a deathless name Is the silent homage of thoughts unspoken. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The warriors that fought for their country, and bled, Have sunk to their rest; the damp earth is their bed; No stone… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
They are dead; but they live in each Patriot's breast, And their names are engraven on honor's bright crest. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
We often excuse our own want of philanthropy by giving the name of fanaticism to the more ardent zeal of others. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
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 Copy Share Image
There is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
It is folly to pretend that one ever wholly recovers from a disappointed passion. Such wounds always leave a scar. There are… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Time has a doomsday book, upon whose pages he is continually recording illustrious names. But as often as a new name 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
