Henry Wadsworth Longfellow ( 10 of 238 )
It was Autumn, and incessant
Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves,
And, like living coals, the read more
It was Autumn, and incessant
Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves,
And, like living coals, the apples
Burned among the withering leaves.
I saw the long line of the vacant shore,
The sea-weed and the shells upon the sand,
read more
I saw the long line of the vacant shore,
The sea-weed and the shells upon the sand,
And the brown rocks left bare on every hand,
As if the ebbing tide would flow no more.
World-wide apart, and yet akin,
As showing that the human heart
Beats on forever as of old.
World-wide apart, and yet akin,
As showing that the human heart
Beats on forever as of old.
After a day of cloud and wind and rain
Sometimes the setting sun breaks out again,
And read more
After a day of cloud and wind and rain
Sometimes the setting sun breaks out again,
And touching all the darksome woods with light,
Smiles on the fields until they laugh and sing,
Then like a ruby from the horizon's ring,
Drops down into the night.
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave us read more
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave us behind
Footprints on the sands of time.
The holiest of all holidays are those kept by ourselves in silence and apart; the secret anniversaries of the heart.
The holiest of all holidays are those kept by ourselves in silence and apart; the secret anniversaries of the heart.
So when a great man dies,
For years beyond our ken,
The light he leaves behind him read more
So when a great man dies,
For years beyond our ken,
The light he leaves behind him lies
Upon the paths of men.
He the sweetest of all singers.
He the sweetest of all singers.
Then from the neighboring thicket the mockingbird, wildest of
singers,
Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung read more
Then from the neighboring thicket the mockingbird, wildest of
singers,
Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er the water.
Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious music,
That the whole air and the woods and the waves seemed silent to
listen.
Even cities have their graves!
Even cities have their graves!
