Take this sorrow to thy heart and make it part of thee, and it shall nourish thee till thou art strong again. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Take them, O Death! and bear away Whatever thou canst call thine own! Thine image, stamped upon this clay, Doth give thee… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
God sent his Singers upon earth With songs of sadness and of mirth, That they might touch the hearts of men, And… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
O little feet! that such long years Must wander on through hopes and fears, Must ache and bleed beneath your load; I,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The life of woman is full of woe, Toiling on and on and on, With breaking heart, and tearful eyes, The secret… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,… — 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
