Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And out hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled read more

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And out hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

All things come round to him who will but wait.

All things come round to him who will but wait.

O summer day beside the joyous sea!
O summer day so wonderful and white,
So full of read more

O summer day beside the joyous sea!
O summer day so wonderful and white,
So full of gladness and so full of pain!
Forever and forever shalt thou be
To some the gravestone of a dead delight,
To some the landmark of a new domain.

By unseen hand uplifted in the light
Of sunset, yonder solitary cloud
Floats, with its white apparel read more

By unseen hand uplifted in the light
Of sunset, yonder solitary cloud
Floats, with its white apparel blown abroad,
And wafted up to heaven.

And the fireflies, Wah-wah-taysee,
Waved their torches to mislead him.

And the fireflies, Wah-wah-taysee,
Waved their torches to mislead him.