Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

To be left alone, and face to face with my own crime, had been just retribution.

To be left alone, and face to face with my own crime, had been just retribution.

He the sweetest of all singers.

He the sweetest of all singers.

Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe.

Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe.

The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;
The secret anniversaries read more

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 our of darkness start
As flames from ashes; swift desires that dart
Like swallows singing down each wind that blows!

O child! O new-born denizen
Of life's great city! on thy head
The glory of morn is read more

O child! O new-born denizen
Of life's great city! on thy head
The glory of 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.