Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes

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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Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.

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A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.

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Perhaps there lives some dreamy boy, untaught In schools, some graduate of the field or street, Who shall become a master of art, An admiral sailing the high seas of thought Fearless and first, and steering with his fleet For lands not yet laid down in any chart.

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Your silent tents of green We deck with fragrant flowers; Yours has the suffering been, The memory shall be ours.

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So Nature deals with us, and takes away Our playthings one by one, and by the hand Leads us to rest so gently, that we go, Scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay, Being too full of sleep to understand How far the unknown transcends the what we know.

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Take this sorrow to thy heart and make it part of thee, and it shall nourish thee till thou art strong again.

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Fame grows like a tree if it have the principle of growth in it; the accumulated dews of ages freshen its leaves.

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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.

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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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I have you fast in my fortress, And will not let you depart, But put you down into the dungeon, In the round-tower of my heart, And there will I keep you forever, Yes, forever and a day, Till the walls shall crumble to ruin, And moulder in the dust away!

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Tags : Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes , Wall Quotes , Heart Quotes

Autumn arrives like a warrior with the stain of blood upon his brazen mail. His crimson scarf is rent. His scarlet banner drips with gore. His step is like a flail upon the threshing floor.

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God's voice was not in the earthquake, Not in the fire, nor the storm, but it was in the whispering breezes.

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To charm, to strengthen, and to teach: these are the three great chords of might.

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Shepherds at the grange, Where the Babe was born, Sang with many a change, Christmas carols until morn.

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Where, twisted round the barren oak, The summer vine in beauty clung, And summer winds the stillness broke, The crystal icicle is hung.

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Tags : Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes , Summer Quotes , Winter Quotes

Some feelings are quite untranslatable; no language has yet been found for them. They gleam upon us beautifully through the dim twilight of fancy, and yet when we bring them close to us, and hold them up to the light of reason, lose their beauty all at once, as glow worms which gleam with such a spiritual light in the shadows of evening, when brought in where the candles are lighted, are found to be only worms like so many others.

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And so we plough along, as the fly said to the ox.

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Whatever hath been written shall remain, Nor be erased nor written o'er again; The unwritten only still belongs to thee: Take heed, and ponder well what that shall be.

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Tags : Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes , Thee Quotes , Authorship Quotes

The tragic element in poetry is like Saturn in alchemy, the Malevolent, the Destroyer of Nature ; but without it no true Aurum Potabile, or Elixir of Life, can be made.

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Tags : Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes , Poetry Quotes , Elements Quotes