Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

For age is opportunity no less than youth itself, though in another dress, and as the evening twilight fades away, read more

For age is opportunity no less than youth itself, though in another dress, and as the evening twilight fades away, the sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.

I heard the trailing garments of the Night
Sweep through her marble halls.

I heard the trailing garments of the Night
Sweep through her marble halls.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And out hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled read more

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And out hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

Thy fate is the common fate of all; Into each life some rain must fall.

Thy fate is the common fate of all; Into each life some rain must fall.

The Helicon of too many poets is not a hill crowned with sunshine and visited by the Muses and the read more

The Helicon of too many poets is not a hill crowned with sunshine and visited by the Muses and the Graces, but an old, mouldering house, full of gloom and haunted by ghosts.