For hate is strong, And mocks the song Of peace on earth, good-will to men! — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Sang in tones of deep emotion Songs of love and songs of longing. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Chill air and wintry winds! My ear has grown familiar with your song; I hear it in the opening year, I listen,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Peace! and no longer from its brazen portals The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies! But beautiful as songs of… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
I have a passion for ballad. . . . They are the gypsy children of song, born under green hedgerows in the… — 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 flower-de-luce, bloom on, and let the river Linger to kiss thy feet! O flower of song, bloom on, and make forever… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Ye are better than all the ballads That ever were sung or said; For ye are living poems, And all the rest… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Read from some humbler poet, Whose songs gushed from his heart, As showers from the clouds of summer, Or tears from the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
This song of mine Is a song of the vine To be sung by the glowing embers Of wayside inns, When the… — 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
And in despair I bowed my head; "There is no peace on earth," I said; "For hate is strong, And mocks the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Sweet as the tender fragrance that survives, When martyred flowers breathe out their little lives, Sweet as a song that once consoled… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
“ The Arrow and the Song I shot an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
I shot an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight… — 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
