The heart, like the mind, has a memory. And in it are kept the most precious keepsakes. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Heart Copy Share Image
All things must change To something new, to something strange. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Change Copy Share Image
Like black hulks the shadows of the great trees ride at anchor on the billowy sea of grass. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The sunshine fails, the shadows grow more dreary, And I am near to fall, infirm and weary. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Age Copy Share Image
And when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was the silence. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
It is the heart and not the brain, That to the highest doth attain. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Brain Copy Share Image
If you would hit the mark, you must aim a little above it. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
All sense of hearing and of sight enfold in the serene delight and quietude of sleep. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Delight Copy Share Image
Build me straight. O worthy Master! Staunch and strong, a goodly vessel That shall laugh at all disaster, And with wave and… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Disaster Copy Share Image
For bells are the voice of the church; They have tones that touch and search The hearts of young and old. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Bells 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 Earth 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
Ah! What would the world be to us If the children were no more? We should dread the desert behind us Worse… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
To say the least, a town life makes one more tolerant and liberal in one's judgment of others. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Cities Copy Share Image
Each new epoch in life seems an encounter. There is a tussle and a cloud of dust, and we come out of… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
The great tragedy of the average man is that he goes to his grave with his music still in him. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
How can I teach your children gentleness and mercy to the weak, and reverence for life, which in its nakedness and excess,… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Action Copy Share Image
Out of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
I am more afraid of deserving criticism than of receiving it. I stand in awe of my own opinion. The secret demerits… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Awe Copy Share Image
White swan of cities slumbering in thy nest . . . White phantom city, whose untrodden streets Are rivers, and whose pavements… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Cities Copy Share Image
Alas! it is not till time, with reckless hand, has torn out half the leaves from the Book of Human Life to… — 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 Disappointed Copy Share Image
The sentence of the first murderer was pronounced by the Supreme Judge of the universe. Was it death? No, it was life.… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Cain Copy Share Image
The setting of a great hope is like the setting of the sun. The brightness of our life is gone. Shadows of… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Perhaps the chief cause which has retarded the progress of poetry in America, is the want of that exclusive cultivation, which so… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow America Copy Share Image
Thus thought I, as by night I read Of the great army of the dead, The trenches cold and damp, The starved… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Army Copy Share Image
“You know the rest. In the books you have read How the British Regulars fired and fled,--- How the farmers gave them… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Books 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 warriors that fought for their country, and bled, Have sunk to their rest; the damp earth is their bed; No stone… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Ashes Copy Share Image
“Snow-flakes By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Out of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, Over the… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Flower Copy Share Image
To-day, to-morrow, every day, to thousands the end of the world is close at hand. And why should we fear it? We… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Cathedrals 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
