Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Sculpture is more divine, and more like Nature,
That fashions all her works in high relief,
And read more

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.

I have a passion for ballad. . . . They are the gypsy children of
song, born under green read more

I have a passion for ballad. . . . They are the gypsy children of
song, born under green hedgerows in the leafy lanes and bypaths
of literature,--in the genial Summertime.

Feet that run on willing errands!

Feet that run on willing errands!

The sun is set; and in his latest beams
Yon little cloud of ashen gray and gold,
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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.

Nature is a revelation of God; Art is a revelation of man

Nature is a revelation of God; Art is a revelation of man