Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Her silver voice
Is the rich music of a summer bird,
Heard in the still night, with read more

Her silver voice
Is the rich music of a summer bird,
Heard in the still night, with its passionate cadence.

Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world calls illusions.

Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world calls illusions.

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
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I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

They, the holy ones and weakly,
Who the cross of suffering bore,
Folded their pale hands so read more

They, the holy ones and weakly,
Who the cross of suffering bore,
Folded their pale hands so meekly,
Spake with us on earth no more!

I see, but cannot reach, the height
That lies forever in the light.

I see, but cannot reach, the height
That lies forever in the light.