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I heard through the nightThe rush and the clamourThe pulse of the fightLike blows of Thor's hammerThe pattering flightOf the leaves, and the anguishedMoan of the forest vanquished.

Henry Van Dyke

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Henry Van Dyke
Age: 80 †
Born: 1852
Born: November 10
Died: 1933
Died: April 10
Diplomat
Poet
Writer
Germantown
Philadelphia
Forest
Clamour
Forests
Thor
Leaves
Vanquished
Blow
Hammer
Heard
Hammers
Blows
Pulse
Rush

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Natural beauty and wonder are priceless heirlooms which God has bestowed upon our nation. How shall we escape the contempt of the coming generation if we suffer this irreplaceable heritage to be wasted?
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Flowers rejoice when night is done, Lift their heads to greet the sun Sweetest looks and odours raise, In a silent hymn of praise.
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Be glad of life because it gives you the chance to love, to work, to play, and to look up at the stars.
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The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month.
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So let the way wind up the hill or down, O’er rough or smooth, the journey will be joy Still seeking what I sought when but a boy, New friendship, high adventure, and a crown. My heart will keep the courage of the quest, And hope the road’s last turn will be the best.
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Happiness is inward, and not outward and so, it does not depend on what we have, but on what we are.
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Oh, London is a man's town, there's power in the air And Paris is a woman's town, with flowers in her hair And it's sweet to dream in Venice, and it's great to study Rome But when it comes to living, there is no place like home.
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There is a better thing than the observance of Christmas day, and that is, keeping Christmas.
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Count not the cost of honour to the dead!The tribute that a mighty nation paysTo those who loved her well in former daysMeans more than gratitude for glories fledFor every noble man that she hath bred,Lives in the bronze and marble that we raise,Immortalised by art's immortal praise,To lead our sons as he our fathers led.
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Love is not getting, but giving It is goodness, and honor, and peace and pure living.
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Like water spilt upon the ground--alas, Our little lives flow swiftly on and pass Yet may they bring rich harvests and green grass!
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Favorite People, Favorite Places, Favorite Memories of the past ... These are the joys of a lifetime Those are the things that last
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What you possess in the world will be found at the day of your death to belong to someone else. But what you are will be yours forever.
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Love that leads life upward is the noblest and the best.
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So in the heart, When, fading slowly down the past, Fond memories depart, And each that leaves it seems the last Long after all the rest are flown, Returns a solitary tone,— The after-echo of departed years,— And touches all the soul to tears.
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Culture is the habit of being pleased with the best and knowing why.
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I'm only wishing to go a-fishingFor this the month of May was made.
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