Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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.

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

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

Talk not of wasted affection; affection never was wasted.

Talk not of wasted affection; affection never was wasted.

Sculpture is more than painting. It is greater
To raise the dead to life than to create
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Sculpture is more than painting. It is greater
To raise the dead to life than to create
Phantoms that seem to live.

Morality without religion is only a kind of dead reckoning,--an
endeavor to find our place on a cloudy sea 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.