American poet (1807-1882)
Labor with what zeal we will,
Something still remains undone,
Something uncompleted still
Waits the rising of the sun.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
"Something Left Undone"
Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven,
Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
Evangeline
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.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
"Tomorrow"
I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight,
The manifold, soft charms,
That fill the haunted chambers of the Night,
Like some old poet's rhymes.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
"Hymn to the Night"
I am more afraid of deserving criticism than of receiving it.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
Kavanagh: A Tale
Fame grows like a tree if it have the principle of growth in it; the accumulated dews of ages freshen its leaves.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
Table-Talk
For age is opportunity no less
Than youth itself, though in another dress,
And as the evening twilight fades away
The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
"Morituri Salutamus"
Ah me! what wonder-working, occult science
Can from the ashes in our hearts once more
The rose of youth restore?
What craft of alchemy can bid defiance
To time and change, and for a single hour
Renew this phantom-flower?
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
"Palingenesis"
God's voice was not in the earthquake,
Not in the fire, nor the storm, but it was in the whispering breezes.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
"The Children of the Lord's Supper"
O holy Night! from these I learn to bear
What man has borne before!
Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care,
And they complain no more.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
"Hymn to the Night"
In old age our bodies are worn-out instruments, on which the soul tries in vain to play the melodies of youth. But because the instrument has lost its strings, or is out of tune, it does not follow that the musician has lost his skill.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
Table-Talk
So many ghosts, and forms of fright,
Have started from their graves to-night,
They have driven sleep from mine eyes away;
I will go down to the chapel and pray.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
The Golden Legend
More hearts are breaking in this world of ours
Than one would say. In distant villages
And solitudes remote, where winds have wafted
The barbed seeds of love, or birds of passage
Scattered them in their flight, do they take root,
And grow in silence, and in silence perish.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
The Spanish Student
The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
"Holidays"
I do not know; nor will I vainly question
Those pages of the mystic book which hold
The story still untold,
But without rash conjecture or suggestion
Turn its last leaves in reverence and good heed,
Until "The End" I read.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
"Palingenesis"
It is curious to note the old sea-margins of human thought! Each subsiding century reveals some new mystery; we build where monsters used to hide themselves.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
"Kavanagh", Prose Works
I do not believe anyone can be perfectly well, who has a brain and a heart.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
letter to Charles Sumner, September 17, 1842
Every author has the whole past to contend with; all the centuries are upon him. He is compared with Homer, Dante, Shakespeare, Milton.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
Table-Talk
The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
"The Day is Done"
There are moments in life, when the heart is so full of emotion
That if by chance it be shaken, or into its depths like a pebble
Drops some careless word, it overflows and its secret,
Spilt on the ground like water, can never be gathered together.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
"The Courtship of Miles Standish"