Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The things that have been and shall be no more,
The things that are, and that hereafter shall be,
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The things that have been and shall be no more,
The things that are, and that hereafter shall be,
The things that might have been, and yet were not,
The fading twilight of joys departed.

It is a dream, sweet child! a waking dream,
A blissful certainty, a vision bright,
Of that read more

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.

Romance is the poetry of literature.

Romance is the poetry of literature.

The star of the unconquered will,
He rises in my breast,
Serene, and resolute, and still,
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The star of the unconquered will,
He rises in my breast,
Serene, and resolute, and still,
And calm, and self-possessed.

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind in never weary;
The read more

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind in 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.