Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Morality without religion is only a kind of dead reckoning,--an
endeavor to find our place on a cloudy sea read more

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.

The greatest firmness is the greatest mercy.

The greatest firmness is the greatest mercy.

Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the read more

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.

The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
. . . .
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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.

Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;
Behind the clouds the sun is shining;
Thy fate is read more

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.