Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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,

A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
read more

A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.

Midnight! the outpost of advancing day!
The frontier town and citadel of night!

Midnight! the outpost of advancing day!
The frontier town and citadel of night!

Thy voice
Is a celestial melody.

Thy voice
Is a celestial melody.

And the fireflies, Wah-wah-taysee,
Waved their torches to mislead him.

And the fireflies, Wah-wah-taysee,
Waved their torches to mislead him.