Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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.

A feeling of sadness and longing that is not akin to pain, and resembles sorrow only as the mist resembles read more

A feeling of sadness and longing that is not akin to pain, and resembles sorrow only as the mist resembles the rain.

For his heart was in his work, and the heart giveth grace unto every art.

For his heart was in his work, and the heart giveth grace unto every art.

For there are moments in life, when the heart is so full of
emotion,
That if by chance read more

For there are moments in life, when the heart is so full of
emotion,
That if by chance it be shaken, or into its depths like a pebble,
Drops some careless word, it overflows, and its secret,
Spilt on the ground like water, can never be gathered together.

Tell your master that if there were as many devils at Worms as
tiles on its roofs, I would read more

Tell your master that if there were as many devils at Worms as
tiles on its roofs, I would enter.