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'Tis always morning somewhere, and aboveThe awakening continents, from shore to shore,Somewhere the birds are singing evermore.
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
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Portland
Maine
Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
00018405207 IPI
Longfellow
Morning
Evermore
Nature
Continents
Always
Awakening
Shore
Birds
Somewhere
Bird
Singing
More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Then followed that beautiful season... Summer.... Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light and the landscape Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.
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Don't cross the bridge til you come to it.
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Maiden, that read'st this simple rhyme, Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime, For oh, it is not always May!
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The strength of criticism lies in the weakness of the thing criticized.
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The things that have been and shall be no more, The things that are, and that hereafter shall be, The things that might have been, and yet were not, The fading twilight of joys departed.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
'Twas Easter-Sunday. The full-blossomed trees Filled all the air with fragrance and with joy.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
From dust thou art to dust returneth, was not spoken of the soul.
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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?
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Perseverance is a great element of success. If you only knock long enough and loud enough at the gate, you are sure to wake up somebody.
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Enjoy the Spring of Love and Youth, to some good angel leave the rest For Time will teach thee soon the truth, there are no birds in last year's nest!
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We are all architects of faith, ever living in these walls of time.
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Magnificent autumn! He comes not like a pilgrim, clad in russet weeds not like a hermit, clad in gray but like a warrior with the stain of blood in his brazen mail.
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All sense of hearing and of sight enfold in the serene delight and quietude of sleep.
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All that is best in the great poets of all countries is not what is national in them, but what is universal.
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Glorious indeed is the world of God around us, but more glorious the world of God within us.
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Mercy more becomes a magistrate than the vindictive wrath which men call justice.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
All are architects of Fate, Working in these walls of Time Some with massive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
And in the wreck of noble lives Something immortal still survives.
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The student has his Rome, his Florence, his whole glowing Italy, within the four walls of his library. He has in his books the ruins of an antique world and the glories of a modern one.
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How in the turmoil of life can love stand, Where there is not one heart, and one mouth and one hand.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
