Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

So many ghosts, and forms of fright,
Have started from their graves to-night,
They have driven sleep read more

So many ghosts, and forms of fright,
Have started from their graves to-night,
They have driven sleep from mine eyes away;
I will go down to the chapel and pray.

I see, but cannot reach, the height
That lies forever in the light.

I see, but cannot reach, the height
That lies forever in the light.

Writ in the climate of heaven, in the language spoken by angels.

Writ in the climate of heaven, in the language spoken by angels.

The sparrows chirped as if they still were proud
Their race in Holy Writ should mentioned be.
read more

The sparrows chirped as if they still were proud
Their race in Holy Writ should mentioned be.
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,

Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe.

Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe.