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Kind hearts are the gardens, Kind thoughts are the roots, Kind words are the flowers, Kind deeds are the fruits, Take care of your garden And keep out the weeds, Fill it with sunshine, Kind words, and Kind deeds.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Age: 75 †
Born: 1807
Born: January 1
Died: 1882
Died: March 24
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Portland
Maine
Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
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Longfellow
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What seems to us but dim funeral tapers may be heaven's distant lamps.
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And in the wreck of noble lives Something immortal still survives.
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How beautiful the silent hour, when morning and evening thus sit together, hand in hand, beneath the starless sky of midnight!
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I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls The burial-ground God's-Acre! It is just It consecrates each grave within its walls, And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust.
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Winter giveth the fields, and the trees so old, their beards of icicles and snow.
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Some poems are like the Centaurs--a mingling of man and beast, and begotten of Ixion on a cloud.
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Shepherds at the grange, Where the Babe was born, Sang with many a change, Christmas carols until morn.
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Ah, Nothing is too late, till the tired heart shall cease to palpitate.
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The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.
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When thou are not pleased, beloved, Then my heart is sad and darkened, As the shining river darkens When the clouds drop shadows on it! When thou smilest, my beloved, Then my troubled heart is brightened, As in sunshine gleam the ripples That the cold wind makes in rivers.
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And the wind plays on those great sonorous harps, the shrouds and masts of ships.
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Oh, how short are the days! How soon the night overtakes us!
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No tears Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.
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Death is the chillness that precedes the dawn We shudder for a moment, then awake In the broad sunshine of the other life.
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Most people would succeed in small things if they were not troubled with great ambitions.
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Weak minds make treaties with the passions they cannot overcome, and try to purchase happiness at the expense of principle but the resolute will of a strong man scorns such means, and struggles nobly with his foe to achieve great deeds.
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Music is the universal language of mankind.
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For it is the fate of a woman Long to be patient and silent, to wait like a ghost that is speechless, Till some questioning voice dissolves the spell of its silence. Hence is the inner life of so many suffering women Sunless and silent and deep, like subterranean rivers Runnng through caverns of darkness.
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There's not a ship that sails the ocean, But every climate, every soil, Must bring its tribute, great or small, And help to build the wooden wall!
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Many readers judge of the power of a book by the shock it gives their feelings.
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