Henry Wadsworth Longfellow ( 10 of 238 )
Listen, every one
That listen may, unto a tale
That's merrier than the nightingale.
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Listen, every one
That listen may, unto a tale
That's merrier than the nightingale.
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Tales of a Wayside Inn (pt. III,),
Will without power is like children playing at soldiers.
- quoted by Thomas Babington Macaulay, The Rovers read more
Will without power is like children playing at soldiers.
- quoted by Thomas Babington Macaulay, The Rovers (act IV),
Most people would succeed in small things if they were not troubled with great ambitions.
Most people would succeed in small things if they were not troubled with great ambitions.
The Helicon of too many poets is not a hill crowned with sunshine and visited by the Muses and the read more
The Helicon of too many poets is not a hill crowned with sunshine and visited by the Muses and the Graces, but an old, mouldering house, full of gloom and haunted by ghosts.
Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
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Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.
They sing, they will pay.
[Fr., Ils chantent, ils payeront.]
They sing, they will pay.
[Fr., Ils chantent, ils payeront.]
Do you ne'er think what wondrous beings these?
Do you ne'er think who made them, and who taught
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Do you ne'er think what wondrous beings these?
Do you ne'er think who made them, and who taught
The dialect they speak, where melodies
Alone are the interpreters of thought?
Whose household words are songs in many keys,
Sweeter than instrument of man e'er caught!
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,
He spake well who said that graves are the footprints of angels.
He spake well who said that graves are the footprints of angels.
By unseen hand uplifted in the light
Of sunset, yonder solitary cloud
Floats, with its white apparel read more
By unseen hand uplifted in the light
Of sunset, yonder solitary cloud
Floats, with its white apparel blown abroad,
And wafted up to heaven.
Shepherds at the grange,
Where the Babe was born,
Sang with many a change,
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Shepherds at the grange,
Where the Babe was born,
Sang with many a change,
Christmas carols until morn.
