Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

So when a great man dies,
For years beyond our ken,
The light he leaves behind him read more

So when a great man dies,
For years beyond our ken,
The light he leaves behind him lies
Upon the paths of men.

My Book and Heart
Shall never part.

My Book and Heart
Shall never part.

There is no grief like the grief that does not speak

There is no grief like the grief that does not speak

To the red rising moon, and loud and deep
The nightingale is singing from the steep.

To the red rising moon, and loud and deep
The nightingale is singing from the steep.

Feeling is deep and still; and the word that floats on the
surface
Is as the tossing buoy, read more

Feeling is deep and still; and the word that floats on the
surface
Is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the anchor is hidden.