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How beautiful the silent hour, when morning and evening thus sit together, hand in hand, beneath the starless sky of midnight!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Age: 75 †
Born: 1807
Born: January 1
Died: 1882
Died: March 24
Novelist
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Portland
Maine
Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
00018405207 IPI
Longfellow
Hour
Silent
Starless
Hand
Midnight
Morning
Twilight
Hours
Beneath
Beautiful
Evening
Hands
Thus
Together
Sky
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Gorgeous flowerets in the sunlight shining, Blossoms flaunting in the eye of day, Tremulous leaves, with soft and silver lining, Buds that open only to decay.
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That tree is very old, but I never saw prettier blossoms on it than it now bears. That tree grows new wood each year. Like that apple tree, I try to grow a new little wood each year.
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Love is sunshine, hate is shadow, Life is checkered shade and sunshine.
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Our blossoms of passion, gay and luxuriant flowers, are bright and full of fragrance, but they beguile us and lead us astray, and their odor is deadly.
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My soul is full of longing for the secret of the sea
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The trees are white with dust, that o'er their sleep Wave their broad curtains in the south-wind's breath, While underneath such leafy tents they keep The long, mysterious Exodus of Death.
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Do not fear! Heaven is as near, He said, by water as by land!
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One half the world must sweat and groan that the other half may dream.
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For it is the fate of a woman Long to be patient and silent, to wait like a ghost that is speechless, Till some questioning voice dissolves the spell of its silence. Hence is the inner life of so many suffering women Sunless and silent and deep, like subterranean rivers Runnng through caverns of darkness.
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The Mormons make the marriage ring, like the ring of Saturn, fluid, not solid, and keep it in its place by numerous satellites.
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Softly the evening came /with the sunset/.
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O little feet! that such long years Must wander on through hopes and fears, Must ache and bleed beneath your load I, nearer to the wayside inn Where toil shall cease and rest begin, Am weary, thinking of your road!
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Ah, how good it feels! The hand of an old friend.
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Be thy sleep Silent as night is, and as deep.
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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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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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When we walk towards the sun of Truth, all shadows are cast behind us.
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Tis always morning somewhere.
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People of a lively imagination are generally curious, and always so when a little in love.
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