Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

There's a brave fellow! There's a man of pluck!
A man who's not afraid to say his say,
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There's a brave fellow! There's a man of pluck!
A man who's not afraid to say his say,
Though a whole town's against him.

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.

Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
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Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.

Oh, well has it been said, that there is no grief like the grief
which does not speak!

Oh, well has it been said, that there is no grief like the grief
which does not speak!

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
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Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
and things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art; to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.