Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Rule by patience, Laughing Water!

Rule by patience, Laughing Water!

I have a passion for ballad. . . . They are the gypsy children of
song, born under green read more

I have a passion for ballad. . . . They are the gypsy children of
song, born under green hedgerows in the leafy lanes and bypaths
of literature,--in the genial Summertime.

And the hooded clouds, like friars,
Tell their beads in drops of rain.

And the hooded clouds, like friars,
Tell their beads in drops of rain.

The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark.

The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark.

I stood on the bridge at midnight,
As the clocks were striking the hour,
And the moon read more

I stood on the bridge at midnight,
As the clocks were striking the hour,
And the moon rose over the city,
Behind the dark church tower.