Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I love the season well
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded read more

I love the season well
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell
The coming of storms.

See yonder little cloud, that, borne aloft
So tenderly by the wind, floats fast away
Over the read more

See yonder little cloud, that, borne aloft
So tenderly by the wind, floats fast away
Over the snowy peaks!

Morality without religion is only a kind of dead reckoning - an endeavor to find our place on a cloudy read more

Morality without religion is only a kind of dead reckoning - an endeavor to find our place on a cloudy sea by measuring the distance we have run, but without any observation of the heavenly bodies.

There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.

There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.

These bells have been anointed,
And baptized with holy water!

These bells have been anointed,
And baptized with holy water!