Henry Wadsworth Longfellow ( 10 of 238 )
Writ in the climate of heaven, in the language spoken by angels.
Writ in the climate of heaven, in the language spoken by angels.
Nor deem the irrevocable Past,
As wholly wasted, wholly vain,
If, rising on its wrecks, at last
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Nor deem the irrevocable Past,
As wholly wasted, wholly vain,
If, rising on its wrecks, at last
To something nobler we attain.
Since yesterday I have been in Alcala.
Erelong the time will come, sweet Preciosa,
When that dull read more
Since yesterday I have been in Alcala.
Erelong the time will come, sweet Preciosa,
When that dull distance shall no more divide us;
And I no more shall scale thy wall by night
To steal a kiss from thee, as I do now.
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.
It is Lucifer,
The son of mystery;
And since God suffers him to be,
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It is Lucifer,
The son of mystery;
And since God suffers him to be,
He, too, is God's minister,
And labors for some good
By us not understood.
The life of a man consists not in seeing visions and in dreaming dreams, but in active charity and in read more
The life of a man consists not in seeing visions and in dreaming dreams, but in active charity and in willing service
Tell your master that if there were as many devils at Worms as
tiles on its roofs, I would read more
Tell your master that if there were as many devils at Worms as
tiles on its roofs, I would enter.
Far off I hear the crowing of the cocks,
And through the opening door that time unlocks
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Far off I hear the crowing of the cocks,
And through the opening door that time unlocks
Feel the fresh breathing of To-morrow creep.
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our read more
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears,
Are all with thee,--are all with thee!
Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when read more
Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.
