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See yonder fire! It is the moon slow rising o'er the eastern hill. It glimmers on the forest tips, and through the dewy foliage drips In little rivulets of light, and makes the heart in love with night.
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
Heart
Slow
Foliage
Love
Moon
Tips
Fire
Hill
Makes
Eastern
Glimmers
Night
Forest
Rivulets
Light
Hills
Drips
Littles
Forests
Dewy
Little
Rising
Yonder
More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
They are dead but they live in each Patriot's breast, And their names are engraven on honor's bright crest.
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Stars of earth, these golden flowers emblems of our own great resurrection emblems of the bright and better land.
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Prayer is innocence's friend and willingly flieth incessant 'twist the earth and the sky, the carrier-pigeon of heaven.
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Oh, how short are the days! How soon the night overtakes us!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I have a passion for ballad. . . . They are the gypsy children of song, born under green hedgerows in the leafy lanes and bypaths of literature,--in the genial Summertime.
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Love gives itself it is not bought.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
All was silent as before - All silent save the dripping rain.
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Hope has as many lives as a cat or a king.
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To be seventy years old is like climbing the Alps. You reach a snow-crowned summit, and see behind you the deep valley stretching miles and miles away, and before you other summits higher and whiter, which you may have strength to climb, or may not. Then you sit down and meditate and wonder which it will be.
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For the structure that we raise, Time is with materials filled Our to-days and yesterdays Are the blocks with which we build.
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Much must he toil who serves the Immortal Gods.
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At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, A fisherman stood aghast, To see the form of a maiden fair, Lashed close to a drifting mast.
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Will without power is like children playing at soldiers.
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Time is the life of the soul.
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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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The foods that prolong life and increase purity, vigour, health, cheerfulness, and happiness are those that are delicious, soothing, substantial and agreeable... Foods that are bitter, sour, salt, over-hot, pungent, dry and burning produce unhappiness, repentance and disease.
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Each morning sees some task begun, each evening sees it close Something attempted, something done, has earned a night's repose.
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If you would hit the mark, you must aim a little above it.
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The shadows of the mind are like those of the body. In the morning of life they all lie behind us at noon we trample them under foot and in the evening they stretch long, broad, and deepening before us.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
