Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

There's not a ship that sails the ocean,
But every climate, every soil,
Must bring its tribute, read more

There's not a ship that sails the ocean,
But every climate, every soil,
Must bring its tribute, great or small,
And help to build the wooden wall!

The world loves a spice of wickedness.

The world loves a spice of wickedness.

Her silver voice
Is the rich music of a summer bird,
Heard in the still night, with read more

Her silver voice
Is the rich music of a summer bird,
Heard in the still night, with its passionate cadence.

The music of the brook silenced all conversation.

The music of the brook silenced all conversation.

It was Autumn, and incessant
Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves,
And, like living coals, the read more

It was Autumn, and incessant
Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves,
And, like living coals, the apples
Burned among the withering leaves.