Maxioms by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
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A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;
The secret anniversaries read more
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!
The shades of night were falling fast,
As through an Alpine village passed
A youth, who bore, read more
The shades of night were falling fast,
As through an Alpine village passed
A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice
A banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!
Very hot and still the air was,
Very smooth the gliding river,
Motionless the sleeping shadows.
Very hot and still the air was,
Very smooth the gliding river,
Motionless the sleeping shadows.
For his heart was in his work, and the heart giveth grace unto every art.
For his heart was in his work, and the heart giveth grace unto every art.
