Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

And the fireflies, Wah-wah-taysee,
Waved their torches to mislead him.

And the fireflies, Wah-wah-taysee,
Waved their torches to mislead him.

And fast through the midnight dark and drear,
Through the whistling sleet and snow,
Like a sheeted read more

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.

The sparrows chirped as if they still were proud
Their race in Holy Writ should mentioned be.
read more

The sparrows chirped as if they still were proud
Their race in Holy Writ should mentioned be.
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
and read more

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
and things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art; to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Sweet April! many a thought
Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed;
Nor shall they fail, read more

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.