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HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
American poet and scholar
(1807 - 1882)
  CHECK READING LIST (3)    << Prev Page    Displaying page 21 of 26    Next Page >> 

Whatever poet, orator, or sage
  May say of it, old age is still old age.
      - Morituri Salutamus (l. 264) [Age]

For age is opportunity no less
  Than youth itself, though in another dress,
    And as the evening twilight fades away
      The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.
      - Morituri Salutamus (l. 281) [Age]

How beautiful is youth! how bright it gleams
  With its illusions, aspirations, dreams!
    Book of Beginnings, Story without End,
      Each maid a heroine, and each man a friend!
      - Morituri Salutamus (l. 66) [Youth]

Ah! nothing is too late
  Till the tires heart shall cease to palpitate.
      - Morituri Salutamus (st. 24) [Delay]

A boy's will is the wind's will.
      - My Lost Youth [Will]

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.
      - Nature (l. 9) [Nature]

A solid man of Boston;
  A comfortable man with dividends,
    And the first salmon and the first green peas.
      - New England Tragedies--John Endicott
         (act IV) [Boston]

Ah, how good it feels!
  The hand of an old friend.
      - New England Tragedies--John Endicott
         (act IV, sc. 1) [Friends]

But the good deed, through the ages
  Living in historic pages,
    Brighter grows and gleams immortal,
      Unconsumed by moth or rust.
      - Norman Baron [Deeds]

Emigravit, is the inscription on the tombstone where he lies;
  Deal he is not, but departed,--for the artist never dies.
      - Nuremberg [Epitaphs]

And the smith his iron measures hammered to the anvil's chime;
  Thanking God, whose boundless wisdom makes the flowers of poesy bloom
    In the forge's dust and cinders, in the tissues of the loom.
      - Nuremberg (l. 34) [Blacksmithing]

Dead he is not, but departed,--for the artist never dies.
      - Nuremberg (st. 13) [Art]

Building nests in Fame's great temple,
  As in spouts the swallows build.
      - Nuremberg (st. 16) [Fame]

In the valley of the Pegnitz, where,
  Across broad meadow-lands,
    Rise the blue Franconian mountains,
      Nuremburg, the ancient, stands.
        Quaint old town of toil and traffic,
          Quaint old town of art and song,
            Memories haunt thy pointed gables,
              Like the rooks that round thee throng.
      - Nuremburg [Nuremburg]

The course of my long life hath reached at last,
  In fragile bark o'er a tempestuous sea,
    The common harbor, where must rendered be,
      Account of all the actions of the past.
      - Old Age [Age]

Like the river, swift and clear,
  Flows his song through many a heart.
      - Oliver Basselin (st. 11) [Poets]

History casts its shadow far into the land of song.
      - Outre-Mer--Ancient Spanish Ballads
        [History]

Music is the universal language of mankind.
      - Outre-Mer--Ancient Spanish Ballads [Music]

It was Autumn, and incessant
  Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves,
    And, like living coals, the apples
      Burned among the withering leaves.
      - Pegasus in Pound [Autumn]

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.
      - Possibilities [Childhood]

Skilful alike with tongue and pen,
  He preached to all men everywhere
    The Gospel of the Golden Rule,
      The New Commandment given to men,
        Thinking the deed, and not the creed,
          Would help us in out utmost need.
      - Prelude to Tales of a Wayside Inn (l. 217)
        [Preaching]

Thoughts so sudden, that they seem
  The revelations of a dream.
      - Prelude to Tales of a Wayside Inn
         (pt. I, l. 233) [Thought]

He loved the twilight that surrounds
  The border-land of old romance;
    Where glitter hauberk, helm, and lance,
      And banner waves, and trumpet sounds,
        And ladies ride with hawk on wrist,
          And mighty warriors sweep along,
            Magnified by the purple mist,
              The dusk of centuries and of song.
      - Prelude to Tales of a Wayside Inn
         (pt. V, l. 130) [Romance]

Let us then be up and doing,
  With a heart for any fate;
    Still achieving, still pursuing,
      Long to labor and to wait.
      - Psalm of Life [Action]

There is a Reaper whose name is Death,
  And with his sickle keen,
    He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
      And the flowers that grow between.
      - Reaper and the Flowers [Death]


Displaying page 21 of 26 for this author:   << Prev  Next >>  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 [21] 22 23 24 25 26

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