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
Youth, hope, and love: To build a new life on a ruined life, To make the future fairer than the past, And… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
“A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.” — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Now to rivulets from the mountains Point the rods of fortune-tellers; Youth perpetual dwells in fountains, Not in flasks, and casks, and… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
I feel a kind of reverence for the first books of young authors. There is so much aspiration in them, so much… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Standing, with reluctant feet, Where the brook and river meet, Womanhood and childhood fleet! — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
“Sadly as some old mediaeval knight Gazed at the arms he could no longer wield, The sword two-handed and the shining shield… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
A boy's will is the wind's will, and the thought's of youth are long, long thoughhts — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
It is autumn; not without But within me is the cold. Youth and spring are all about; It is I that have… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The motives and purposes of authors are not always so pure and high, as, in the enthusiasm of youth, we sometimes imagine.… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Youth wrenches the sceptre from old age, and sets the crown on its own head before it is entitled to it. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Youth comes but once a life time. Perhaps, but it remains strong in many for their entire lives. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary; The vine still clings to the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
How far the gulf-stream of our youth may flow Into the arctic regions of our lives, Where little else than life itself… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
What else remains for me? Youth, hope and love; To build a new life on a ruined life. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Maiden, that read'st this simple rhyme, Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay; Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime, For oh, it… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Enjoy the Spring of Love and Youth, to some good angel leave the rest; For Time will teach thee soon the truth,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Ah me! what wonder-working, occult science Can from the ashes in our hearts once more The rose of youth restore? What craft… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
A young critic is like a boy with a gun; he fires at every living thing he sees. He thinks only of… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
How beautiful is youth! how bright it gleams with its illusions, aspirations, dreams! Book of Beginnings, Story without End, Each maid a… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
For age is opportunity no less Than youth itself, though in another dress, And as the evening twilight fades away The sky… — 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
