Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Sculpture is more divine, and more like Nature,
That fashions all her works in high relief,
And read more

Sculpture is more divine, and more like Nature,
That fashions all her works in high relief,
And that is Sculpture. This vast ball, the Earth,
Was moulded out of clay, and baked in fire;
Men, women, and all animals that breathe
Are statues, and not paintings.

Good-night! good-night! as we so oft have said
Beneath this roof at midnight, in the days
That read more

Good-night! good-night! as we so oft have said
Beneath this roof at midnight, in the days
That are no more, and shall no more return.
Thou hast but taken up thy lamp and gone to bed;
I stay a little longer, as one stays
To cover up the embers that still burn.

Trust no future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead past bury its dead!
Act,--act in the living Present!
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Trust no future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead past bury its dead!
Act,--act in the living Present!
Heart within and God o'erhead.

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!

The rapture of pursuing is the prize the vanquished gain.

The rapture of pursuing is the prize the vanquished gain.