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HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
American poet and scholar
(1807 - 1882)
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In the thickets and the meadows
  Piped the bluebird, the Owaissa.
    On the summit of the lodges
      Sang the robin, the Opechee.
      - Hiawatha (pt. XXI) [Bluebirds]

Came the Spring with all its splendor,
  All its birds and all its blossoms,
    All its flowers, and leaves, and grasses.
      - Hiawatha (pt. XXI, l. 109) [Spring]

Does not all the blood within me
  Leap to meet thee, leap to meet thee,
    As the springs to meet the sunshine.
      - Hiawatha--Wedding Feast (l. 153) [Love]

The holiest of all holidays are those
  Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;
    The secret anniversaries of the heart,
      When the full river of feeling overflows;--
        The happy days unclouded to their close;
          The sudden joys that our of darkness start
            As flames from ashes; swift desires that dart
              Like swallows singing down each wind that blows!
      - Holidays (l. 1) [Holidays]

O holy trust! O endless sense of rest!
  Like the beloved John
    To lay his head upon the Saviour's breast,
      And thus to journey on!
      - Hymn (st. 5) [Trust]

I heard the trailing garments of the Night
  Sweep through her marble halls.
      - Hymn to the Night [Night]

O holy Night! from thee I learn to bear
  What man has born before!
    Thou layest thy fingers on the lips of Care,
      And they complain no more.
      - Hymn to the Night [Night]

Look not mournfully into the Past; it comes not back again. Wisely improve the Present; it is thine.
  Go forth to meet the shadowy Future without fear and with a manly heart.
      - Hyperion [Future]

Dost thou know what a hero is? Why, a hero is as much as one should say,--a hero.
      - Hyperion (bk. I, ch. I) [Heroes]

The setting of a great hope is like the setting of the sun. The brightness of our life is gone.
      - Hyperion (bk. I, ch. I) [Hope]

Then stars arise, and the night is holy.
      - Hyperion (bk. I, ch. I) [Night]

The Rhine! the Rhine! a blessing on the Rhine!
      - Hyperion (bk. I, ch. II) [Rhine River]

Beneath me flows the Rhine, and, like the stream of Time, it flows amid the ruins of the Past.
      - Hyperion (bk. I, ch. III) [Rhine River]

A face that had a story to tell. How different faces are in this particular! Some of them speak not. They are books in which not a line is written, save perhaps a date.
      - Hyperion (bk. I, ch. IV) [Face]

If you once understand an author's character, the comprehension of his writings becomes easy.
      - Hyperion (bk. I, ch. V) [Authorship]

And the wind plays on those great sonorous harps, the shrouds and masts of ships.
      - Hyperion (bk. I, ch. VII) [Ships]

Fame comes only when deserved, and then is an inevitable as destiny, for it is destiny.
      - Hyperion (bk. I, ch. VIII) [Fame]

Glorious indeed is the world of God around us, but more glorious the world of God within us. There lies the Land of Song; there lies the poet's native land.
      - Hyperion (bk. I, ch. VIII)
        [Intellect : World]

Perhaps the greatest lession which the lives of literary men teach us is told in a simgle world: Wait!
      - Hyperion (bk. I, ch. VIII) [Authorship]

Where should the scholar live? In solitude, or in society? in the green stillness of the country, where he can hear the heart of Nature beat, or in the dark, gray town where he can hear and feel the throbbing heart of man?
      - Hyperion (bk. I, ch. VIII) [Students]

The swallow is come!
  The swallow is come!
    O, fair are the seasons, and light
      Are the days that she brings,
        With her dusky wings,
          And her bosom snowy white!
      - Hyperion (bk. II, ch. I) [Swallows]

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.
      - Hyperion (bk. II, ch. II) [Ballads]

Oh, well has it been said, that there is no grief like the grief which does not speak!
      - Hyperion (bk. II, ch. II) [Grief]

For next to being a great poet is the power of understanding one.
      - Hyperion (bk. II, ch. III) [Poets]

Time is the Life of the Soul.
      - Hyperion (bk. II, ch. VI) [Time]


Displaying page 17 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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