Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Even cities have their graves!

Even cities have their graves!

Even the blackest of them all, the crow,
Renders good service as your man-at-arms,
Crushing the beetle read more

Even the blackest of them all, the crow,
Renders good service as your man-at-arms,
Crushing the beetle in his coat of mail,
And crying havoc on the slug and snail.
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,

The life of a man consists not in seeing visions and in dreaming dreams, but in active charity and in read more

The life of a man consists not in seeing visions and in dreaming dreams, but in active charity and in willing service

The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
. . . .
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The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
. . . .
The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.

It is Lucifer,
The son of mystery;
And since God suffers him to be,
read more

It is Lucifer,
The son of mystery;
And since God suffers him to be,
He, too, is God's minister,
And labors for some good
By us not understood.