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Quotes by Samuel Longfellow
The dead leaves their rich mosaics Of olive and gold and brown Had laid on the rain-wet pavements, Through all the embowered town.— filed under Months-November
Confucius. He is dead, the sweet musician! * * * * * * He has moved a little nearer To the Master of all music.— filed under Music
The picture that approaches sculpture nearest Is the best picture.— filed under Occupations-Navigation
The soul never grows old.— filed under Sorrow
Youth comes but once in a lifetime.— filed under Youth
At first laying down, as a fact fundamental, That nothing with God can be accidental.— filed under Accident
Let us then be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labour and to wait.— filed under Action
The good one, after every action, closes His volume, and ascends with it to God. The other keeps his dreadful day-book open Till sunset, that we may repent; which doing, The record of the action fades away, And leaves a line of white across the page, Now if my act be good, as I believe, It cannot be recalled. It is already Sealed up in heaven, as a good deed accomplished. The rest is yours.— filed under Action
Trust no future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead past bury its dead! Act, act in the living present! Heart within and God o'erhead.— filed under Action
With useless endeavour, Forever, forever, Is Sisyphus rolling His stone up the mountain!— filed under Action
Faded Flower. Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted; If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, returning Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment; That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.— filed under Affection
And the bright faces of my young companions Are wrinkled like my own, or are no more.— filed under Affliction
For age is opportunity no less Than youth itself, though in another dress, And as the evening twilight fades away The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.— filed under Affliction
How far the gulf-stream of our youth may flow Into the arctic regions of our lives, Where little else than life itself survives.— filed under Affliction
The course of my long life hath reached at last, In fragile bark o'er a tempestuous sea, The common harbor, where must rendered be, Account of all the actions of the past.— filed under Affliction
The sunshine fails, the shadows grow more dreary, And I am near to fall, infirm and weary.— filed under Affliction
AGE (OLD). Whatever poet, orator, or sage May say of it, old age is still old age.— filed under Affliction
Irene. I see, but cannot reach, the height That lies forever in the light.— filed under Ambition
Most people would succeed in small things if they were not troubled with great ambitions.— filed under Ambition
O, though oft depressed and lonely, All my fears are laid aside, If I but remember only Such as these have lived and died!— filed under Angels
Pope's trans. So many ghosts, and forms of fright, Have started from their graves to-night, They have driven sleep from mine eyes away; I will go down to the chapel and pray.— filed under Apparitions
the Workshops. Art is Power.— filed under Art
Art is the child of Nature; yes, Her darling child in whom we trace The features of the mother's face, Her aspect and her attitude.— filed under Art
Dead he is not, but departed, -for the artist never dies.— filed under Art
The counterfeit and counterpart Of Nature reproduced in art.— filed under Art
O child! O new-born denizen Of life's great city! on thy head The glory of the morn is shed, Like a celestial benison! Here at the portal thou dost stand, And with thy little hand Thou openest the mysterious gate Into the future's undiscovered land.— filed under Babyhood
*** I have a passion for ballads. They are the gypsy children of song, born under green hedgerows in the leafy lanes and bypaths of literature, -in the genial Summertime.— filed under Ballads
Beautiful in form and feature, Lovely as the day, Can there be so fair a creature Formed of common clay?— filed under Beauty
C. The Workshop of Hephastus. Chorus of the Graces. Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax, Her cheeks like the dawn of day, And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds, That ope in the month of May.— filed under Beauty
Bell, thou soundest merrily, When the bridal party To the church doth hie! Bell, thou soundest solemnly, When, on Sabbath morning, Fields deserted lie! LONGFELLOW (quoted)-Hyperion. Bk. III. Ch. 3. For bells are the voice of the church; They have tones that touch and search The hearts of young and old.— filed under Bells
He heard the convent bell, Suddenly in the silence ringing For the service of noonday.— filed under Bells
It cometh into court and pleads the cause Of creatures dumb and unknown to the laws; And this shall make, in every Christian clime, The bell of Atri famous for all time.— filed under Bells
The Sicilian's Tale. The Bell of Atri. Seize the loud, vociferous bells, and Clashing, clanging to the pavement Hurl them from their windy tower! LONGFELLOw-Christus. The Golden Legend. Prologue. The bells themselves are the best of preachers, Their brazen lips are learned teachers, From their pulpits of stone, in the upper air, Sounding aloft, without crack or flaw, Shriller than trumpets under the Law, Now a sermon and now a prayer.— filed under Bells
These bells have been anointed, And baptized with holy water!— filed under Bells
Do you ne'er think what wondrous beings these? Do you ne'er think who made them, and who taught The dialect they speak, where melodies Alone are the interpreters of thought? Whose household words are songs in many keys, Sweeter than instrument of man e'er caught!— filed under Benevolence
Even the blackest of them all, the crow, Renders good service as your man-at-arms, Crushing the beetle in his coat of mail, And crying havoc on the slug and snail.— filed under Birds-Cuckoo
Mocking-bird. Then from the neighboring thicket the mocking-bird, wildest of singers, Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er the water, Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious music, That the whole air and the woods and the waves seemed silent to listen.— filed under Birds-Nightingale
The song-birds leave us at the summer's close, Only the empty nests are left behind, And pipings of the quail among the sheaves.— filed under Birds-Raven
Sparrow. The sparrows chirped as if they still were proud Their race in Holy Writ should mentioned be.— filed under Birds-Sea Bird
The swallow is come! The swallow is come! O, fair are the seasons, and light Are the days that she brings, With her dusky wings, And her bosom snowy white!— filed under Birds-Swallow
her Birthday. This is my birthday, and a happier one was never mine.— filed under Birthday
Preliminary Essay. Books are sepulchres of thought.— filed under Books
Leaving us heirs to amplest heritages Of all the best thoughts of the greatest sages, And giving tongues unto the silent dead!— filed under Books
Reading from Shakespeare. The pleasant books, that silently among Our household treasures take familiar places, And are to us as if a living tongue Spake from the printed leaves or pictured faces!— filed under Books
See, how the stream has overflowed Its banks, and o'er the meadow road Is spreading far and wide!— filed under Brooks
Nativity. The music of the brook silenced all conversation.— filed under Brooks
All things must change To something new, to something strange.— filed under Change
But the nearer the dawn the darker the night, And by going wrong all things come right; Things have been mended that were worse, And the worse, the nearer they are to mend. C.— filed under Change
A tender heart; a will inflexible.— filed under Character
In this world a man must either be anvil or hammer.— filed under Character
Not in the clamor of the crowded street, Not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, But in ourselves, are triumph and defeat. C.— filed under Character
Sensitive, swift to resent, but as swift in atoning for error.— filed under Character
Day. So mild, so merciful, so strong, so good, So patient, peaceful, loyal, loving, pure.— filed under Character
Thou hast the patience and the faith of Saints.— filed under Character
Boy Again. Ah! what would the world be to us If the children were no more? We should dread the desert behind us Worse than the dark before.— filed under Childhood
Hail to the King of Bethlehem, Who weareth in his diadem The yellow crocus for the gem Of his authority!— filed under Christmas
I heard the bells on Christmas Day Their old, familiar carols play, And wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good-will to men!— filed under Christmas
Shepherds at the grange, Where the Babe was born, Sang with many a change, Christmas carols until morn.— filed under Christmas
Pope's trans. Even cities have their graves!— filed under Circumstance
Breakfast Table. VI. A solid man of Boston A comfortable man with dividends, And the first salmon and the first green peas.— filed under Cities-Delft
Delft. What land is this? Yon pretty town Is Delft, with all its wares displayed: The pride, the market-place, the crown And centre of the Potter's trade,— filed under Cities-Delft
Nuremburg. In the valley of the Pegnitz, where, Across broad meadow-lands, Rise the blue Franconian mountains, Nuremburg, the ancient, stands.— filed under Cities-Dresden
White swan of cities, slumbering in thy nest So wonderfully built among the reeds Of the lagoon, that fences thee and feeds, As sayeth thy old historian and thy guest!— filed under Cities-Venice
By unseen hands uplifted in the light Of sunset, yonder solitary cloud Floats, with its white apparel blown abroad, And wafted up to heaven.— filed under Clouds
See yonder little cloud, that, borne aloft So tenderly by the wind, floats fast away Over the snowy peaks!— filed under Clouds
The country is lyric, the town dramatic. When mingled, they make the most perfect musical drama.— filed under Comparisons
O weary hearts! O slumbering eyes! O drooping souls, whose destinies Are fraught with fear and pain, Ye shall be loved again.— filed under Compensation
'Tis always morn somewhere.— filed under Compensation
O what a glory doth this world put on For him who, with a fervent heart, goes forth Under the bright and glorious sky, and looks On duties well performed, and days well spent!— filed under Content
Johnson. 1743. A single conversation across the table with a wise man is better than ten years' study of— filed under Conversation
Down to the Plymouth Rock, that had been to their feet as a doorstep Into a world unknown, -the corner-stone of a nation!— filed under Countries-America
And as I read I hear the crowing cock, I hear the note Of lark and linnet, and from every page Rise odors of ploughed field or flowery mead. LONGFELLOw-Chaucer. Somewhat back from the village street Stands the old-fashion'd country seat. Across its antique portico Tall poplar-trees their shadows throw; And from its station in the hall An ancient time-piece says to all,- "Forever! never! Never-forever!"— filed under Country Life
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee, Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, Are all with thee, -are all with thee!— filed under Country, Love Of
Sweet the memory is to me Of a land beyond the sea, Where the waves and mountains meet.— filed under Country, Love Of
Bryant's trans. "Be bold!" first gate; "Be bold, be bold, and evermore be bold," second gate; "Be not too bold!" third gate. Inscription on the Gates of Busyrane. C. Write on your doors the saying wise and old, "Be bold! be bold!" and everywhere-" Be bold; Be not too bold!" Yet better the excess Than the defect; better the more than less; Better like Hector in the field to die, Than like a perfumed Paris turn and fly.— filed under Courage
C. Critics are sentinels in the grand army of letters, stationed at the corners of newspapers and reviews, to challenge every new author.— filed under Criticism
An angel with a trumpet said, "Forever more, forever more, The reign of violence is o'er!"— filed under Cruelty
Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzying dances Under the orchard-trees and down the path to the meadows; Old folk and young together, and children mingled among them.— filed under Dancing
Darkness of slumber and death, forever sinking and sinking.— filed under Day
The prayer of Ajax was for light; Through all that dark and desperate fight, The blackness of that noonday night.— filed under Day
O summer day beside the joyous sea! O summer day so wonderful and white, So full of gladness and so full of pain! Forever and forever shalt thou be To some the gravestone of a dead delight, To some the landmark of a new domain.— filed under Day
Death. And, as she looked around, she saw how Death, the consoler, Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed it forever.— filed under Death
Death never takes one alone, but two! Whenever he enters in at a door, Under roof of gold or roof of thatch, He always leaves it upon the latch, And comes again ere the year is o'er, Never one of a household only.— filed under Death
in the Odenwald. Oh, what hadst thou to do with cruel Death, Who wast so full of life, or Death with thee, That thou shouldst die before thou hadst grown old!— filed under Death
Then fell upon the house a sudden gloom, A shadow on those features fair and thin; And softly, from that hushed and darkened room, Two angels issued, where but one went in.— filed under Death
There is a Reaper whose name is Death, And with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between.— filed under Death
Flowers. There is no confessor like unto Death! Thou canst not see him, but he is near: Thou needest not whisper above thy breath, And he will hear; He will answer the questions, The vague surmises and suggestions, That fill thy soul with doubt and fear.— filed under Death
There is no Death! What seems so is transi tion; This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death.— filed under Death
There is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there! There is no fireside howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair.— filed under Death
The young may die, but the old must!— filed under Death
Decide not rashly. The decision made Can never be recalled. The gods implore not, Plead not, solicit not; they only offer Choice and occasion, which once being passed Return no more. Dost thou accept the gift?— filed under Decision
Ah! nothing is too late Till the tired heart shall cease to palpitate.— filed under Delay
Do not delay, Do not delay: the golden moments fly!— filed under Delight
No one is so accursed by fate, No one so utterly desolate, But some heart, though unknown, Responds unto his own. S.— filed under Desolation
Bryant's trans. Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness: So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another, Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.— filed under Destiny
The Theologian's Tale. Elizabeth. Pt. IV. What a glorious thing human life is, *** and how glorious man's destiny!— filed under Destiny
Every dew-drop and rain-drop had a whole heaven within it.— filed under Dew
Is this a dream? O, if it be a dream, Let me sleep on, and do not wake me yet!— filed under Dreams
'Twas but a dream, -let it pass, -let it vanish like so many others! What I thought was a flower is only a weed, and is worthless.— filed under Dreams
Now to rivulets from the mountains Point the rods of fortune-tellers; Youth perpetual dwells in fountains, Not in flasks, and casks, and cellars.— filed under Drinking
Here and Wonder. 'Twas Easter-Sunday. The full-blossomed trees Filled all the air with fragrance and with joy.— filed under Easter
Recollections, by Chas. R. Leslie. Your supper is like the Hidalgo's dinner; very little meat, and a great deal of tablecloth.— filed under Eating
Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance. * * * * * * And, when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was the silence.— filed under Echo
Strahan. July 5, 1775. None but yourself who are your greatest foe.— filed under Bias
Hoeder, the blind old god Whose feet are shod with silence.— filed under Bias
In the elder days of Art, Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part; For the gods see everywhere.— filed under Bias
GODS (THE). Janus am I; oldest of potentates! Forward I look and backward and below I count as god of avenues and gates- The years that through my portals come and go. I block the roads and drift the fields with snow, I chase the wild-fowl from the frozen fen; My frosts congeal the rivers in their flow, My fires light up the hearths and hearts of men.— filed under Bias
Emigravit, is the inscription on the tombstone where he lies; Dead he is not, but departed, -for the artist never dies.— filed under And Cared Not How It Blew
Johnson, 1763. For some must follow, and some command Though all are made of clay!— filed under Equality
Sometimes we may learn more from a man's errors than from his virtues.— filed under Eternity
Sunday After Trinity. Day, like a weary pilgrim, had reached the western gate of heaven, and Evening stooped down to unloose the latchets of his sandal shoon.— filed under Evening
O precious evenings! all too swiftly sped! C.— filed under Evening
Grafton Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time. S.— filed under Example
Marriage. Since yesterday I have been in Alcalá. Erelong the time will come, sweet Preciosa, When that dull distance shall no more divide us; And I no more shall scale thy wall by night To steal a kiss from thee, as I do now.— filed under Expectation
What else remains for me? Youth, hope and love; To build a new life on a ruined life.— filed under Expectation
Convention. March 23, 1775. Nor deem the irrevocable Past, As wholly wasted, wholly vain, If, rising on its wrecks, at last To something nobler we attain.— filed under Experience
And thy deep eyes, amid the gloom, Shine like jewels in a shroud.— filed under Eyes
I dislike an eye that twinkles like a star. Those only are beautiful which, like the planets, have a steady, lambent light, -are luminous, but not sparkling.— filed under Eyes
O lovely eyes of azure, Clear as the waters of a brook that run Limpid and laughing in the summer sun!— filed under Eyes
The flash of his keen, black eyes Forerunning the thunder.— filed under Eyes
Within her tender eye The heaven of April, with its changing light. L— filed under Eyes
Faces. A face that had a story to tell. How different faces are in this particular! Some of them speak not. They are books in which not a line is written, save perhaps a date. C.— filed under Face
The light upon her face Shines from the windows of another world. Saints only have such faces.— filed under Face
These faces in the mirrors Are but the shadows and phantoms of myself.— filed under Face
Education. On Bio-Geology. *** "Patience!" "have faith and thy prayer will be answered!"— filed under Faith
Johnson. 1783. Building nests in Fame's great temple, As in spouts the swallows build.— filed under Fame
Fame comes only when deserved, and then is as inevitable as destiny, for it is destiny. и.— filed under Fame
His fame was great in all the land.— filed under Fame
All are architects of Fate, Working in these walls of Time; Some with massive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme.— filed under Fate
१. No one is so accursed by fate, No one so utterly desolate, But some heart, though unknown, Responds unto his own.— filed under Fate
Oh, fear not in a world like this, And thou shalt know ere long, - Know how sublime a thing it is To suffer and be strong.— filed under Fear
Anecdotes by Mrs. Piozzi. Feeling is deep and still; and the word that floats on the surface Is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the anchor is hidden.— filed under Festivities
For there are moments in life, when the heart is so full of emotion, That if by chance it be shaken, or into its depths like a pebble Drops some careless word, it overflows, and its secret, Spilt on the ground like water, can never be gathered together. S.— filed under Festivities
Showers. Gorgeous flowerets in the sunlight shining, Blossoms flaunting in the eye of day, Tremulous leaves, with soft and silver lining, Buds that open only to decay.— filed under Flirting
Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars, that in the earth's firmament do shine.— filed under Flirting
Columbine. Compass-plant. Silphium laciniatum. Look at this vigorous plant that lifts its head from the meadow, See how its leaves are turned to the north, as true as the magnet; This is the compass-flower. that the finger of God has planted Here in the houseless wild, to direct the traveller's journey Over the sea-like, pathless, limitless waste of the desert, Such in the soul of man is faith.— filed under Flowers-Clover
Flower-de-Luce. Iris. Born in the purple, born to joy and pleasance, Thou dost not toil nor spin, But makest glad and radiant with thy presence The meadow and the lin. LONGFELLOw-Flower-de-Luce. St. 3. O flower-de-luce, bloom on, and let the river Linger to kiss thy feet! O flower of song, bloom on, and make forever The world more fair and sweet.— filed under Flowers-Forget-Me-Not
Feet that run on willing errands!— filed under Foot
I heard him walking across the floor, And he always does, with a heavy tread.— filed under Footsteps
For 'tis sweet to stammer one letter Of the Eternal's language; -on earth it is callèd Forgiveness!— filed under Fortune
Pope's trans. Fortune comes well to all that comes not late.— filed under Fortune
Faces. Ah, how good it feels! The hand of an old friend.— filed under Friends
Alas! to-day I would give everything To see a friend's face, or hear a voice That had the slightest tone of comfort in it.— filed under Friends
My designs and labors And aspirations are my only friends.— filed under Friends
Tower of Prometheus on Mount Caucasus. Pt. III. L. 74. L. 74. O friend! O best of friends! Thy absence more Than the impending night darkens the landscape o'er! LONGFELLOw-Christus. Pt. II. The Golden Legend. I. Yes, we must ever be friends; and of all who offer you friendship Let me be ever the first, the truest, the nearest and dearest!— filed under Friends
Come back! ye friendships long departed! That like o'erflowing streamlets started, And now are dwindled, one by one, To stony channels in the sun! Come back! ye friends, whose lives are ended. Come back, with all that light attended, Which seemed to darken and decay When ye arose and went away!— filed under Friendship
Golden Legend. I. "You will forgive me, I hope, for the sake of I thought you and he were hand-in-glove. the friendship between us, Which is too true and too sacred to be so easily broken!"— filed under Friendship
Grandchildren. Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead!— filed under Futurity
Drama. Life of Lope De Vega. Ch. II. All the means of action- The shapeless masses, the materials- Lie everywhere about us. What we need Is the celestial fire to change the flint Into transparent crystal, bright and clear. That fire is genius!— filed under Genius
Hymn. 1792. A translation. The glory of Him who Hung His masonry pendant on naught, when the world He created.— filed under Glory
Tragedy. Prometheus. God! there is no God but he, the living, the self-subsisting. The Koran, Ch. II. Pt. III. God had sifted three kingdoms to find the wheat for this planting.— filed under God
Gettysburg, Nov. 19, 1863. All your strength is in your union, All your danger is in discord.— filed under Prince De Ligne
I see their scattered gravestones gleaming white Through the pale dusk of the impending night. O'er all alike the imperial sunset throws Its golden lilies mingled with the rose; We give to each a tender thought and pass Out of the graveyards with their tangled grass.— filed under Gratitude
This is the field and Acre of our God, This is the place where human harvests grow!— filed under Gratitude
Under a portrait of Mustapha I. L. 13. Great men stand like solitary towers in the city of God.— filed under Greatness
Drama. Life of Lope De Vega. Ch. II. Oh, well has it been said, that there is no grief like the grief which does not speak! aa.— filed under Grief
Her cap of velvet could not hold The tresses of her hair of gold, That flowed and floated like the stream. And fell in masses down her neck.— filed under Hair
Though time has touched it in his flight, And changed the auburn hair to white.— filed under Hair
The rays of happiness, like those of light, are colorless when unbroken.— filed under Happiness
To be strong Is to be happy!— filed under Happiness
For his heart was in his work, and the heart Giveth grace unto every Art.— filed under Heart
Something the heart must have to cherish, Must love, and joy, and sorrow learn; Something with passion clasp, or perish, And in itself to ashes burn.— filed under Heart
The heaven of poetry and romance still lies around us and within us.— filed under Heaven
Told Tales. We see but dimly through the mists and vapors; Amid these earthly damps What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps.— filed under Heaven
Dost thou know what a hero is? Why, a hero is as much as one should say, - a hero.— filed under History
Pope's trans. History casts its shadow far into the land of song.— filed under History
Ancient Spanish Ballads. They who live in history only seemed to walk the earth again.— filed under History
The holiest of all holidays are those Kept by ourselves in silence and apart; The secret anniversaries of the heart, When the full river of feeling overflows;- The happy days unclouded to their close; The sudden joys that out of darkness start As flames from ashes; swift desires that dart Like swallows singing down each wind that blows!— filed under Holidays
Stay, stay at home, my heart, and rest; Home-keeping hearts are happiest, For those that wander they know not where Are full of trouble and full of care; To stay at home is best. C.— filed under Home
Races, better than we, have leaned on her wavering promise, Having naught else but Hope.— filed under Hope
The setting of a great hope is like the setting of the sun. The brightness of our life is gone.— filed under Hope
Hospitality sitting with gladness.— filed under Hospitality
Every human heart is human.— filed under Humanity
Thy lord shall never die, the whiles this verse Shall live, and surely it shall live for ever: For ever it shall live, and shall rehearse His worthy praise, and vertues dying never,— filed under Immortality
And in the wreck of noble lives Something immortal still survives. L. 375. Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, She lives, whom we call dead.— filed under Xxxvi
Bryant's trans. No action, whether foul or fair, Is ever done, but it leaves somewhere A record, written by fingers ghostly, As a blessing or a curse, and mostly In the greater weakness or greater strength Of the acts which follow it.— filed under Influence
So when a great man dies, For years beyond our ken, The light he leaves behind him lies Upon the paths of men.— filed under Influence
Glorious indeed is the world of God around us, but more glorious the world of God within us. There lies the Land of Song; there lies the poet's native land.— filed under Intellect
Touch the goblet no more! It will make thy heart sore To its very core!— filed under Intemperance
We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done.— filed under Judgment
Man is unjust, but God is just; and finally justice Triumphs.— filed under Justice
Pope's trans. Though he was rough, he was kindly.— filed under Kindness
From labor there shall come forth rest. LONGFELLOw-To a Child. L. 162. Taste the joy That springs from labor.— filed under Labor
The heights by great men reached and kept Were not attained by sudden flight, But they, while their companions slept, Were toiling upward in the night.— filed under Labor
Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave.— filed under Life
Life hath quicksands, Life hath snares! LONGFELLOw-Maidenhood. St. 9. Love is sunshine, hate is shadow, Life is checkered shade and sunshine. LONGFELLOw-Hiawatha. Pt. X. Hiawatha's Wooing. L. 265. Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream!— filed under Life
This life of ours is a wild æolian harp of many a joyous strain, But under them all there runs a loud perpetual wail, as of souls in pain.— filed under Life
Thus at the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought!— filed under Life
Fitzgerald's trans. The prayer of Ajax was for light.— filed under Light
Pope's trans. Listen, every one That listen may, unto a tale That's merrier than the nightingale.— filed under Listening
the Fair Imogene. Does not all the blood within me Leap to meet thee, reap to meet thee, As the springs to meet the sunshine.— filed under Love
How can I tell the signals and the signs By which one heart another heart divines? How can I tell the many thousand ways By which it keeps the secret it betrays?— filed under Love
I do not love thee less for what is done, And cannot be undone. Thy very weakness Hath brought thee nearer to me, and henceforth My love will have a sense of pity in it, Making it less a worship than before.— filed under Love
I love thee, as the good love heaven.— filed under Love
It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it is less difficult to know that it has begun.— filed under Love
Like Dian's kiss, unask'd, unsought, Love gives itself, but is not bought.— filed under Love
Love contending with friendship, and self with each generous impulse. To and fro in his breast his thoughts were heaving and dashing, As in a foundering ship.— filed under Love
Love keeps the cold out better than a cloak. It serves for food and raiment.— filed under Love
O, there is nothing holier, in this life of ours, than the first onsciousness of love,the first fluttering of its silken wings.— filed under Love
That was the first sound in the song of love! Scarce more than silence is, and yet a sound. Hands of invisible spirits touch the strings Of that mysterious instrument, the soul, And play the prelude of our fate. We hear The voice prophetic, and are not alone. C.— filed under Love
Meeting Trouble Half-Way. Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe.— filed under Luck
A man of mark.— filed under Bright Of Disraeli
Asunto the bow the cord is, So unto the man is woman; Though she bends him she obeys him Though she draws him, yet she follows, Useless each without the other!— filed under Matrimony
Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness: So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.— filed under Meeting
The Theologian's Tale. Elizabeth. Pt. IV. The joy of meeting not unmixed with pain.— filed under Meeting
Nothing now is left But a majestic memory.— filed under Memory
The heart hath its own memory, like the mind, And in it are enshrined The precious keepsakes, into which is wrought The giver's loving thought.— filed under Memory
The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark.— filed under Memory
There comes to me out of the Past A voice, whose tones are sweet and wild, Singing a song almost divine, And with a tear in every line.— filed under Memory
Mother's Ghost." This memory brightens o'er the past, As when the sun concealed Behind some cloud that near us hangs, Shines en a distant field.— filed under Memory
Being all fashioned of the self-same dust, Let us be merciful as well as just.— filed under Mercy
Midnight! the outpost of advancing day! The frontier town and citadel of night!— filed under Midnight
I love the season well When forest glades are teeming with bright forms, Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell The coming on of storms.— filed under Months-April
Sweet April! many a thought Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed; Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought, Life's golden fruit is shed.— filed under Months-April
It was a pleasure to live on that bright and happy May morning!— filed under Months-May
The morrow was a bright September morn; The earth was beautiful as if new-born; There was that nameless splendor everywhere, That wild exhilaration in the air, Which makes the passers in the city street Congratulate each other as they meet.— filed under Months-July
In December ring Every day the chimes; Loud the gleemen sing In the streets their merry rhymes. Let us by the fire Ever higher Sing them till the night expire!— filed under Monuments
It is the Harvest Moon! On gilded vanes And roofs of villages, on woodland crests And their aerial neighborhoods of nests Deserted, on the curtained window-panes Of rooms where children sleep, on country lanes And harvest-fields, its mystic splendor rests.— filed under Monuments
See yonder fire! It is the moon Slow rising o'er the eastern hill. It glimmers on the forest tips, And through the dewy foliage drips In little rivulets of light, And makes the heart in love with night.— filed under Monuments
Subjects. Calvinism. Morality without religion is only a kind of dead reckoning, an endeavor to find our place on a cloudy sea by measuring the distance we have run, but without any observation of the heavenly bodies.— filed under Morality
Breaks. A fine morning, Nothing's the matter with it that I know of. I have seen better and I have seen worse.— filed under Morning
Far off I hear the crowing of the cocks, And through the opening door that time unlocks Feel the fresh breathing of To-morrow creep.— filed under Morning
Music is the universal language of mankind.— filed under Music
Spanish Ballads. When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music. и.— filed under Music
Who, through long days of labor, And nights devoid of ease, Still heard in his soul the music Of wonderful melodies.,— filed under Music
Writ in the climate of heaven, in the language spoken by angels.— filed under Music
Nature with folded hands seemed there, Kneeling at her evening prayer!— filed under Nature
No tears Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.— filed under Nature
O what a glory doth this world put on For him who, with a fervent heart, goes forth Under the bright and glorious sky, and looks On duties well performed, and days well spent! For him the wind, ay, and the yellow leaves, Shall have a voice, and give him eloquent teachings.— filed under Nature
So Nature deals with us, and takes away Our playthings one by one, and by the hand Leads us to rest so gently, that we go, Scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay, Being too full of sleep to understand How far the unknown transcends the what we know.— filed under Nature
The natural alone is permanent.— filed under Nature
And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares, that infest the day, Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, And as silently steal away.— filed under Night
I heard the trailing garments of the Night Sweep through her marble halls.— filed under Night
O holy Night! from thee I learn to bear What man has borne before! Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care, And they complain no more.— filed under Night
The night is calm and cloudless, And still as still can be, And the stars come forth to listen To the music of the sea. They gather, and gather, and gather, Until they crowd the sky, And listen, in breathless silence, To the solemn litany. C.— filed under Night
The night is come, but not too soon; And sinking silently, All silently, the little moon Drops down behind the sky. There is no light in earth or heaven But the cold light of stars; And the first watch of night is given To the red planet Mars.— filed under Night
Then stars arise, and the night is holy.— filed under Night
Gifford's trans. Be noble in every thought And in every deed!— filed under Nobility
Noble by birth, yet nobler by great deeds.— filed under Nobility
My Winter Garden. The architect Built his great heart into these sculptured stones, And with him toiled his children, and their lives Were builded, with his own, into the walls, As offerings unto God.— filed under Occupations-Alchemy
If you once understand an author's character, the comprehension of his writings becomes easy.— filed under Occupations-Authorship
Look, then, into thine heart and write!— filed under Occupations-Authorship
Perhaps the greatest lesson which the lives of literary men teach us is told in a single word: Wait!— filed under Occupations-Authorship
Whatever hath been written shall remain, Nor be erased nor written o'er again; The unwritten only still belongs to thee: Take heed, and ponder well what that shall be.— filed under Occupations-Authorship
And the smith his iron measures hammered to the anvil's chime; Thanking God, whose boundless wisdom makes the flowers of poesy bloom In the forge's dust and cinders, in the tissues of the loom.— filed under Occupations-Authorship
As great Pythagoras of yore, Standing beside the blacksmith's door, And hearing the hammers, as they smote The anvils with a different note, Stole from the varying tones, that hung Vibrant on every iron tongue, The secret of the sounding wire, And formed the seven-chorded lyre.— filed under Occupations-Authorship
Under a spreading chestnut tree The village smithy stands: The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands.— filed under Occupations-Authorship
Personality. In the elder days of Art, Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part; For the Gods see everywhere.— filed under Occupations-Cabinet-Making
You behold in me Only a travelling Physician; One of the few who have a mission To cure incurable diseases, Or those that are called so.— filed under Occupations-Medicine
Let one unceasing, earnest prayer Be, too, for light, -for strength to bear Our portion of the weight of care, That crushes into dumb despair One half the human race.— filed under Xii
Like one in prayer I stood.— filed under Xii
OCCUPATIONS-PREACHING. 449 And yonder by Nankin, behold! The Tower of Porcelain, strange and old, Uplifting to the astonished skies Its ninefold painted balconies, With balustrades of twining leaves, And roofs of tile, beneath whose eaves Hang porcelain bells that all the time Ring with a soft, melodious chime; While the whole fabric is ablaze With varied tints, all fused in one Great mass of color, like a maze Of flowers illumined by the sun. LONGFELLOw-Keramos. L. 336. Figures that almost move and speak.— filed under Occupations-Post
Turn, turn, my wheel! Turn round and round Without a pause, without a sound: So spins the flying world away! This clay, well mixed with marl and sand, Follows the motion of my hand; For some must follow, and some command, Though all are made of clay!— filed under Occupations-Post
Johnson. 1763. As pleasant songs, at morning sung, The words that dropped from his sweet tongue Strengthened our hearts; or, heard at night, Made all our slumbers soft and light.— filed under Occupations-Preaching
It is by the Vicar's skirts that the Devil climbs into the Belfry.— filed under Occupations-Preaching
Skilful alike with tongue and pen, He preached to all men everywhere The Gospel of the Golden Rule, The New Commandment given to men, Thinking the deed, and not the creed, Would help us in our utmost need.— filed under Occupations-Preaching
Sculpture is more divine, and more like Nature, That fashions all her works in high relief, And that is Sculpture. This vast ball, the Earth, Was moulded out of clay, and baked in fire; Men, women, and all animals that breathe Are statues, and not paintings.— filed under Occupations-Shoemaking
Sculpture is more than painting. It is greater To raise the dead to life than to create Phantoms that seem to live.— filed under Occupations-Shoemaking
"Would'st thou," so the helmsman answered, "Learn the secret of the sea? Only those who brave its dangers Comprehend its mystery!"— filed under Ocean
Good-night! good-night! as we so oft have said Beneath this roof at midnight, in the days That are no more, and shall no more return. Thou hast but taken up thy lamp and gone to bed; I stay a little longer, as one stays To cover up the embers that still burn.— filed under Parting
All things come round to him who will but wait.— filed under Patience
Rule by patience, Laughing Water!— filed under Patience
Gettysburg. Nov. 19, 1863. Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State! Sail on, O Union, strong and great! Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate! C.— filed under Patriotism
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 the nations.— filed under Peace
Peace! and no longer from its brazen portals The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies! But beautiful as songs of the immortals, The holy melodies of love arise.— filed under Peace
The pen became a clarion.— filed under Perception
For thine own purpose, thou hast sent The strife and the discouragement!— filed under Perseverance
Thomson's Coriolanus. All that is best in the great poets of all countries is not what is national in them, but what is universal.— filed under Poets
For next to being a great poet is the power of understanding one.— filed under Poets
S. Ch. III. For voices pursue him by day, And haunt him by night,- And he listens, and needs must obey, When the Angel says: "Write!"— filed under Poets
Like the river, swift and clear, Flows his song through many a heart. и.— filed under Poets
O ye dead Poets, who are living still Immortal in your verse, though life be fled, And ye, O living Poets, who are dead Though ye are living, if neglect can kill, Tell me if in the darkest hours of ill, With drops of anguish falling fast and red From the sharp crown of thorns upon your head, Ye were not glad your errand to fulfill?— filed under Poets
Who dares To say that he alone has found the truth?— filed under Pride
Don't cross the bridge till you come to it, Is a proverb old, and of excellent wit.— filed under Proverbs
And the hooded clouds, like friars, Tell their beads in drops of rain.— filed under Rain
Be still, sad heart, and cease repining; Behind the clouds the sun is shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.— filed under Rain
The ceaseless rain is falling fast, And yonder gilded vane, Immovable for three days past, Points to the misty main.— filed under Rain
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary.— filed under Rain
Many readers judge of the power of a book by the shock it gives their feelings.— filed under Reading
O lost days of delight, that are wasted in doubting and waiting! O lost hours and days in which we might have been happy!— filed under Regret
Other hope had she none, nor wish in life, but to follow Meekly, with reverent steps, the sacred feet of her Saviour.— filed under Religion
To-morrow! the mysterious, unknown guest, Who cries to me: "Remember Barmecide, And tremble to be happy with the rest." And I make answer: "I am satisfied; I dare not ask; I know not what is best; God hath already said what shall betide."— filed under Resignation
Bryant's trans. Resolve, and thou art free. S.— filed under Resolution
From the Sinngedichte. See Longfellow's trans. Poetic Aphorisms. To be left alone And face to face with my own crime, had been Just retribution.— filed under Retribution
Sermon 1. Nature is a revelation of God; Art a revelation of man.— filed under Revelation
Two ways the rivers Leap down to different seas, and as they roll Grow deep and still, and their majestic presence Becomes a benefaction to the towns They visit, wandering silently among them, Like patriarchs old among their shining tents.— filed under Rights
The Nile, forever new and old, Among the living and the dead, Its mighty, mystic stream has rolled.— filed under Rivers-Potomac
Beneath me flows the Rhine, and, like the stream of Time, it flows amid the ruins of the Past.— filed under Rivers-Rhine
The Rhine! the Rhine! a blessing on the Rhine!— filed under Rivers-Rhine
Thou Royal River, born of sun and shower In chambers purple with the Alpine glow, Wrapped in the spotless ermine of the snow And rocked by tempests!— filed under Rivers-Rhine
He loved the twilight that surrounds The border-land of old romance; Where glitter hauberk, helm, and lance, And banner waves, and trumpet sounds, And ladies ride with hawk on wrist, And mighty warriors sweep along, Magnified by the purple mist, The dusk of centuries and of song.— filed under Romance
C. Æneas Arrives in Italy. L. 8. Sir Sam'l Garth's trans. Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears Into the channel, till the lowest stream Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. Julius Cæsar. Act I. Sc. 1. L. 63. Yvette. O lovely river of Yvette! O darling stream! on balanced wings The wood-birds sang the chansonnette That here a wandering poet sings.— filed under Royalty
Ah! vainest of all things Is the gratitude of kings.— filed under Royalty
O day of rest! How beautiful, how fair, How welcome to the weary and the old ! Day of the Lord! and truce to earthly care! Day of the Lord, as all our days should be!— filed under Rumor
A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.— filed under Sadness
Came the Spring with all its splendor, All its birds and all its blossoms, All its flowers, and leaves, and grasses.— filed under Sculpture
SEASONS (THE)-SPRING. The lovely town was white with apple-blooms, And the great elms o'erhead Dark shadows wove on their ærial looms, Shot through with golden thread.— filed under Sculpture
Thus came the lovely spring with a rush of blossoms and music, Flooding the earth with flowers, and the air with melodies vernal.— filed under Sculpture
Shade. O summer day beside the joyous sea! O summer day so wonderful and white, So full of gladness and so full of pain! Forever and forever shalt thou be To some the gravestone of a dead delight, To some the landmark of a new domain.— filed under Sows
That beautiful season *** the Summer of All-Saints! Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.— filed under Sows
Gone are the birds that were our summer guests, With the last sheaves return the laboring wains!— filed under Sows
It was Autumn, and incessant Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves, And, like living coals, the apples Burned among the withering leaves.— filed under Sows
Johnson. An. 1759. And the wind plays on those great sonorous harps, the shrouds and masts of ships.— filed under Ships
Build me straight, O worthy Master! Staunch and strong, a goodly vessel That shall laugh at all disaster, And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!— filed under Ships
There's not a ship that sails the ocean, But every climate, every soil, Must bring its tribute, great or small, And help to build the wooden wall!— filed under Ships
And fast through the midnight dark and drear, Through the whistling sleet and snow, Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept Towards the reef of Norman's Woe.— filed under Shipwreck
All was silent as before- All silent save the dripping rain.— filed under Silence
Three Silences there are the first of speech, The second of desire, the third of thought.— filed under Silence
Molinos. What shall I say to you? What can I say Better than silence is?— filed under Silence
Old Manse. The Birthmark. God sent his Singers upon earth With songs of sadness and of mirth, That they might touch the hearts of men, And bring them back to heaven again.— filed under Singers
He the sweetest of all singers.— filed under Singers
Sang in tones of deep emotion, Songs of love and songs of longing.— filed under Singers
Sincerity. You know I say Just what I think, and nothing more nor less, And, when I pray, my heart is in my prayer. I cannot say one thing and mean another: If I can't pray, I will not make believe! и.— filed under Sincerity
Breathe thy balm upon the lonely, Gentle Sleep! As the twilight breezes bless With sweet scents the wilderness, Ah, let warm white dove-wings only Round them sweep! LUCY LARCOm-Sleep Song. Dreams of the summer night! Tell her, her lover keeps Watch! while in slumbers light She sleeps! My lady sleeps! Sleeps!— filed under Sleep
For I am weary, and am overwrought With too much toil, with too much care distraught, And with the iron crown of anguish crowned. Lay thy soft hand upon my brow and cheek, O peaceful Sleep!— filed under Sleep
Out of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over the harvest-fields forsaken, Silent, and soft, and slow Descends the snow.— filed under Snow
Listen to that song, and learn it! Half my kingdom would I give, As I live, If by such songs you would earn it!— filed under Song
The Saga of King Olaf. Pt. V. Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer.— filed under Song
The song on its mighty pinions Took every living soul, and lifted it gently to heaven.— filed under Song
There is no greater sorrow Than to be mindful of the happy time In misery.— filed under Sorrow
Johnsoniana. 487. Ah, the souls of those that die Are but sunbeams lifted higher.— filed under Sorrow
Just above yon sandy bar, As the day grows fainter and dimmer, Lonely and lovely, a single star Lights the air with a dusky glimmer.— filed under Stars
Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.— filed under Stars
The night is calm and cloudless, And still as still can be, And the stars come forth to listen To the music of the sea. They gather, and gather, and gather, Until they crowd the sky, And listen, in breathless silence, To the solemn litany.— filed under Stars
There is no light in earth or heaven But the cold light of stars; And the first watch of night is given To the red planet Mars.— filed under Stars
Night after night, He sat and bleared his eyes with books. C.— filed under Students
Where should the scholar live? In solitude, or in society? in the green stillness of the country, where he can hear the heart of Nature beat, or in the dark, gray town where he can hear and feel the throbbing heart of man?— filed under Students
As turning the logs will make a dull fire burn, so changes of studies a dull brain.— filed under Stupidity
Pope's trans. They, the holy ones and weakly, Who the cross of suffering bore, Folded their pale hands so meekly, Spake with us on earth no more!— filed under Suicide
Ah yes, the sea is still and deep, All things within its bosom sleep! A single step, and all is o'er, A plunge, a bubble, and no more.— filed under Suicide
After a day of cloud and wind and rain Sometimes the setting sun breaks out again, And, touching all the darksome woods with light, Smiles on the fields until they laugh and sing, Then like a ruby from the horizon's ring, Drops down into the night.— filed under Sunset
Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glimmering vapors Veiled the light of his face, like the Prophet descending from Sinai.— filed under Sunset
Softly the evening came. The sun from the western horizon Like a magician extended his golden wand o'er the landscape; Twinkling vapors arose; and sky and water and forest Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and mingled together.— filed under Sunset
All things are symbols: the external shows Of Nature have their image in the mind, As flowers and fruits and falling of the leaves.— filed under Symbols
World-wide apart, and yet akin, As showing that the human heart Beats on forever as of old.— filed under Sympathy
May 16, 1699. A thought often makes us hotter than a fire.— filed under Thought
My own thoughts Are my companions. aa.— filed under Thought
Mount Caucasus. The surest pledge of a deathless name Is the silent homage of thoughts unspoken. bb. LONGFELLOw-The Herons of Elmwood. St. 9. Thoughts so sudden, that they seem The revelations of a dream.— filed under Thought
As a storm-cloud lurid with lightning And a cry of lamentation, Repeated and again repeated, Deep and loud As the reverberation Of cloud answering unto cloud, Swells and rolls away in the distance, As if the sheeted Lightning retreated, Baffled and thwarted by the wind's resistance.— filed under Thunder
I saw the long line of the vacant shore, The sea-weed and the shells upon the sand, And the brown rocks left bare on every hand, As if the ebbing tide would flow no more.— filed under Tides
The tide rises, the tide falls, The twilight darkens, the curlew calls; * * * * * * The little waves, with their soft, white hands, Efface the footprints in the sands, And the tide rises, the tide falls. и.— filed under Tides
A handful of red sand from the hot clime Of Arab deserts brought, Within this glass becomes the spy of Time, The minister of Thought.— filed under Time
Hour-Glass. Alas! it is not till Time, with reckless hand, has torn out half the leaves from the Book of Human Life to light the fires of human passion with, from day to day, that man begins to see that the leaves which remain are few in number.— filed under Time
Art is Long, and Time is fleeting.— filed under Time
Time has laid his hand Upon my heart, gently, not smiting it, But as a harper lays his open palm Upon his harp, to deaden its vibrations.— filed under Time
Time is the Life of the Soul.— filed under Time
Nothing that is can pause or stay; The moon will wax, the moon will wane, The mist and cloud will turn to rain, The rain to mist and cloud again, To-morrow be to-day.— filed under To-Day
Far off I hear the crowing of the cocks, And through the opening door that time unlocks Feel the fresh breathing of To-morrow creep.— filed under To-Morrow
C. Pope's trans. I should think your tongue had broken its chain!— filed under Tongues
This is the forest primeval.— filed under Treason
Cherry. Cerasus. Sweet is the air with the budding haws, and the valley stretching for miles below Is white with blossoming cherry-trees, as if just covered with lightest snow.— filed under Trees And Plants-Chestnut
And the great elms o'erhead Dark shadows wove on their aërial looms, Shot through with golden thread.— filed under Trees And Plants-Chestnut
Hemlock. Tsuga Canadensis. O hemlock-tree! O hemlock-tree! how faithful are thy branches! Green not alone in summer time, But in the winter's frost and rime! O hemlock-tree! O hemlock-tree! how faithful are thy branches!— filed under Trees And Plants-Chestnut
Bank. Palm. Phenix Dactylifera. As the palm-tree standeth so straight and so tall, The more the hail beats, and the more the rains fall.— filed under Trees And Plants-Palm
Like two cathedral towers these stately pines Uplift their fretted summits tipped with cones; The arch beneath them is not built with stones, Not Art but Nature traced these lovely lines, And carved this graceful arabesque of vines; No organ but the wind here sighs and moans, No sepulchre conceals a martyr's bones, No marble bishop on his tomb reclines. Enter! the pavement, carpeted with leaves, Gives back a softened echo to thy tread! Listen! the choir is singing; all the birds, In leafy galleries beneath the eaves, Are singing! listen, ere the sound be fled, And learn there may be worship without words.— filed under Trees And Plants-Palm
Recovery from a Dangerous Illness. But noble souls, through dust and heat, Rise from disaster and defeat The stronger.— filed under Trials
Summer Day. The sun is set; and in his latest beams Yon little cloud of ashen gray and gold, Slowly upon the amber air unrolled, The falling mantle of the Prophet seems.— filed under Twilight
Sea. The twilight is sad and cloudy, The wind blows wild and free, And like the wings of sea-birds Flash the white caps of the sea. S.— filed under Twilight
Saint Augustine! well hast thou said, That of our vices we can frame A ladder, if we will but tread Beneath our feet each deed of shame.— filed under Victory
the Angel. It is a dream, sweet child! a waking dream, A blissful certainty, a vision bright, Of that rare happiness, which even on earth Heaven gives to those it loves.— filed under Visions
Her silver voice Is the rich music of a summer bird, Heard in the still night, with its passionate cadence.— filed under Voice
Oh, there is something in that voice that reaches The innermost recesses of my spirit!— filed under Voice
Divine Tragedy. The First Passover. Pt. VI. Thy voice Is a celestial melody.— filed under Voice
Marseilles Hymn. Is it, O man, with such discordant noises, With such accursed instruments as these, Thou drownest Nature's sweet and kindly voices, And jarrest the celestial harmonies?— filed under War
The atmosphere Breathes rest and comfort and the many chambers Seem full of welcomes.— filed under Welcome
Welcome, my old friend, Welcome to a foreign fireside.— filed under Welcome
The majority is wicked. k. BIAS. The world loves a spice of wickedness.— filed under Wickedness
But thou dost make the very night itself Brighter than day.— filed under Wife
Tragedy. The First Passover. Pt. III. L. 133. Sail forth into the sea of life, O gentle, loving, trusting wife, And safe from all adversity Upon the bosom of that sea Thy comings and thy goings be! For gentleness and love and trust Prevail o'er angry wave and gust; And in the wreck of noble lives Something immortal still survives.— filed under Wife
A boy's will is the wind's will.— filed under Will
The star of the unconquered will, He rises in my breast, Serene, and resolute, and still, And calm, and self-possessed.— filed under Will
Chill airs and wintry winds! my ear Has grown familiar with your song; I hear it in the opening year, I listen, and it cheers me long.— filed under Wind
I hear the wind among the trees Playing celestial symphonies; I see the branches downward bent, Like keys of some great instrument.— filed under Wind
There is a devil in every berry of the grape. The Koran. Filled with the wine Of the vine Benign That flames so red in Sansavine.— filed under Wine And Spirits
Jerrold's Wit. Fairy Tales. Ripe in wisdom was he, but patient, and simple, and childlike.— filed under Wisdom
Heart. A Lady with a lamp shall stand In the great history of the land, A noble type of good, Heroic womanhood.— filed under Sam'L Johnson-Seward's
The life of woman is full of woe, Toiling on and on and on, With breaking heart, and tearful eyes, The secret longings that arise, Which this world never satisfies! Some more, some less, but of the whole Not one quite happy, no, not one!— filed under Sam'L Johnson-Seward's
Women are but Men's Shadows. If I am not worth the wooing, I surely am not worth the winning.— filed under Wooing
The nightingales among the sheltering boughs Of populous and many-nested trees Shall teach me how to woo thee, and shall tell me By what resistless charms or incantations They won their mates.— filed under Wooing
Dictionary. Fair words gladden so many a heart. и.— filed under Words
The Musician's Tale. Speaking words of endearment where words of comfort availed not.— filed under Words
Never idle a moment, but thrifty and thoughtful of others.— filed under Work
Langton. Jan., 1758. How beautiful is youth! how bright it gleams With its illusions, aspirations, dreams! Book of Beginnings, Story without End, Each maid a heroine, and each man a friend!— filed under Youth
In its sublime audacity of faith, "Be thou removed!" it to the mountain saith, And with ambitious feet, secure and proud, Ascends the ladder leaning on the cloud! LONGFELLOw-Morituri Salutamus. Standing with reluctant feet, Where the brook and river meet, Womanhood and childhood fleet! T.— filed under Youth