The gentle wind, a sweet and passionate wooer, Kisses the blushing leaf. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The love of learning, the sequestered nooks, And all the sweet serenity of books. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
For 'tis sweet to stammer one letter Of the Eternal's language; - on earth it is called Forgiveness! — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
I have an affection for a great city. I feel safe in the neighborhood of man, and enjoy the sweet security of… — 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
I heard the bells on Christmas Day Their old, familiar carols play, And wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Sweet is the air with the budding haws, and the valley stretching for miles below Is white with blossoming cherry-trees, as if… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
There's nothing in this world so sweet as love. And next to love the sweetest thing is hate. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Sweet April! many a thought Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed; Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought,… — 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
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
There is a beautiful spirit breathing now Its mellowed richness on the clustered trees, And, from a beaker full of richest dyes,… — 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
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
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
“ 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
There's nothing fair nor beautiful, but takes Something from thee, that makes it beautiful. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share
Fame comes only when deserved, and then is as inevitable as destiny, for it is destiny. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share
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
“ 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
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
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
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
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
Morality without religion is only a kind of dead reckoning - an endeavor to find our place on a cloudy sea by measuring the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share
Buried was the bloody hatchet; Buried was the dreadful war-club; Buried were all warlike weapons, And the war-cry was forgotten. Then was peace among… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share
