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Your silent tents of green We deck with fragrant flowers Yours has the suffering been, The memory shall be ours.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Age: 75 †
Born: 1807
Born: January 1
Died: 1882
Died: March 24
Novelist
Poet
Professor
Translator
Writer
Portland
Maine
Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
00018405207 IPI
Longfellow
Suffering
Uplifting
Flowers
Memory
Silent
Green
Fragrant
Flower
Tents
Memories
Deck
Shall
Memorial
More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The market-place, the eager love of gain, Whose aim is vanity, and whose end is pain!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
And when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was the silence.
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As to the pure mind all things are pure, so to the poetic mind all things are poetical.
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Fame grows like a tree if it have the principle of growth in it the accumulated dews of ages freshen its leaves.
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Today is the blocks with which we build.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I feel a kind of reverence for the first books of young authors. There is so much aspiration in them, so much audacious hope and trembling fear, so much of the heart's history, that all errors and shortcomings are for a while lost sight of in the amiable self assertion of youth.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Many a poem is marred by a superfluous verse.
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Then read from the treasured volume the poem of thy choice, and lend to the rhyme of the poet the beauty of thy voice.
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The air of summer was sweeter than wine.
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What seems to us but dim funeral tapers may be heaven's distant lamps.
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Softly the evening came /with the sunset/.
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Dead he is not, but departed, for the artist never dies.
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Love is the root of creation God's essence worlds without number Lie in his bosom like children he made them for this purpose only. Only to love and to be loved again.
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To say the least, a town life makes one more tolerant and liberal in one's judgment of others.
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Gone are the birds that were our summer guests.
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A Lady with a Lamp shall stand In the great history of the land, A noble type of good, Heroic womanhood.
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The rays of happiness, like those of light, are colorless when unbroken.
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Thus, seamed with many scars Bursting these prison bars, Up to its native stars My soul ascended! There from the flowing bowl Deep drinks the warrior's soul, Skoal! to the Northland! skoal! Thus the tale ended.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
God sifted a whole nation that he might send choice grain over into this wilderness.
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All things come round to him who will but wait.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
