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Gone are the birds that were our summer guests.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Age: 75 †
Born: 1807
Born: January 1
Died: 1882
Died: March 24
Novelist
Poet
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Portland
Maine
Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
00018405207 IPI
Longfellow
Bird
Summer
Gone
Guests
Birds
More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The soul...is audible, not visible.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Mine is the Month of Roses yes, and mine The Month of Marriages! All pleasant sights And scents, the fragrance of the blossoming vine, The foliage of the valleys and the heights. Mine are the longest days, the loveliest nights The mower's scythe makes music to my ear I am the mother of all dear delights I am the fairest daughter of the year.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Then from the neighboring thicket the mocking-bird, wildest of singers, Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er the water, Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious music, That the whole air and the woods and the waves seemed silent to listen.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
They who live in history only seemed to walk the earth again.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I love an author the more for having been himself a lover of books.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
My soul is full of longing for the secret of the sea
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls, The burial-ground God's-Acre.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
All that is best in the great poets of all countries is not what is national in them, but what is universal.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Look upon the errors of others in sorrow, not in anger.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O Music! language of the soul, Of love, of God to man Bright beam from heaven thrilling, That lightens sorrow's weight.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The air is full of farewells to the dying. And mournings for the dead.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Noble souls, through dust and heat, rise from disaster and defeat the stronger.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O gift of God! O perfect day: Whereon shall no man work, but play Whereon it is enough for me, Not to be doing, but to be!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A boy's will is the wind's will.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The holiest of all holidays are those Kept by ourselves in silence and apart The secret anniversaries of the heart, When the full river of feeling overflows- The happy days unclouded to their close The sudden joys that our of darkness start As flames from ashes swift desires that dart Like swallows singing down each wind that blows!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
He looks the whole world in the face for he owes not any man.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
For in the night, unseen, a single warrior, In sombre harness mailed, Dreaded of man, and surnamed the Destroyer, The rampart wall has scaled. He passed into the chamber of the sleeper, The dark and silent room, And as he entered, darker grew, and deeper, The silence and the gloom.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
See yonder little cloud, that, borne aloft So tenderly by the wind, floats fast away Over the snowy peaks!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O thou child of many prayers! Life hath quicksands, Life hath snares! Care and age come unawares!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Be noble in every thought And in every deed!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
