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Even the blackest of them all, the crow, Renders good service as your man-at-arms, Crushing the beetle in his coat of mail. And crying havoc on the slug and snail.
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
Cry
Crushing
Service
Renders
Slug
Arms
Coat
Beetle
Even
Crow
Blackest
Good
Coats
Slugs
Men
Crying
Beetles
Mail
Snail
Crush
Havoc
More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I love thee, as the good love heaven.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
For next to being a great poet is the power of understanding one.
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The Devil hinders me. You know I say Just what I think, and nothing more nor less, And, when I pray, my heart is in my prayer. I cannot say one thing and mean another. If I can't pray, I will not make believe!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Nature is a revelation of God Art a revelation of man.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
They are dead but they live in each Patriot's breast, And their names are engraven on honor's bright crest.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
No man is so poor as to have nothing worth giving.
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I love an author the more for having been himself a lover of books.
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The story, from beginning to end, I found again in a heart of a friend.
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Southward with fleet of ice Sailed the corsair Death Wild and fast blew the blast, And the east-wind was his breath.
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All things come round to him who will but wait.
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When Christ ascended Triumphantly from star to star He left the gates of Heaven ajar.
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A solid man of Boston A comfortable man with dividends, And the first salmon and the first green peas.
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Each day is a branch of the Tree of Life laden heavily with fruit. If we lie down lazily beneath it, we may starve but if we shake the branches, some of the fruit will fall for us.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Life like an empty dream flits by.
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The emigrant's way o'er the western desert is mark'd by Camp-fires long consum'd and bones that bleach in the sunshine.
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See yonder little cloud, that, borne aloft So tenderly by the wind, floats fast away Over the snowy peaks!
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The morrow was a bright September morn The earth was beautiful as if newborn There was nameless splendor everywhere, That wild exhilaration in the air, Which makes the passers in the city street Congratulate each other as they meet.
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I am never indifferent, and never pretend to be, to what people say or think of my books. They are my children, and I like to have them liked.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A torn jacket is soon mended but hard words bruise the heart of a child.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
