Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

There is no grief like the grief that does not speak

There is no grief like the grief that does not speak

Though he was rough, he was kindly.

Though he was rough, he was kindly.

I heard the bells on Christmas Day; their old familiar carols play, and wild and sweet the word repeat of read more

I heard the bells on Christmas Day; their old familiar carols play, and wild and sweet the word repeat of peace on earth, good-will to men!

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.

Art is long, and time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still like muffled drums are beating read more

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