Maxioms by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glimmering vapors
Veiled the light of his face, like the read more
Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glimmering vapors
Veiled the light of his face, like the Prophet descending from
Sinai.
A region of repose it seems,
A place of slumber and of dreams.
A region of repose it seems,
A place of slumber and of dreams.
Tell your master that if there were as many devils at Worms as
tiles on its roofs, I would read more
Tell your master that if there were as many devils at Worms as
tiles on its roofs, I would enter.
That beautiful season
. . . the Summer of All-Saints!
Filled was the air with a dreamy read more
That beautiful season
. . . the Summer of All-Saints!
Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the
landscape
Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.
He heard the convent bell,
Suddenly in the silence ringing
For the service of noonday.
He heard the convent bell,
Suddenly in the silence ringing
For the service of noonday.
