Henry Wadsworth Longfellow ( 10 of 238 )
And the fireflies, Wah-wah-taysee,
Waved their torches to mislead him.
And the fireflies, Wah-wah-taysee,
Waved their torches to mislead him.
There is no grief like the grief that does not speak
There is no grief like the grief that does not speak
Sweet April! many a thought
Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed;
Nor shall they fail, read more
Sweet April! many a thought
Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed;
Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought,
Life's golden fruit is shed.
Good-night! good-night! as we so oft have said
Beneath this roof at midnight, in the days
That read more
Good-night! good-night! as we so oft have said
Beneath this roof at midnight, in the days
That are no more, and shall no more return.
Thou hast but taken up thy lamp and gone to bed;
I stay a little longer, as one stays
To cover up the embers that still burn.
Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet read more
Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice.
The life of a man consists not in seeing visions and in dreaming dreams, but in active charity and in read more
The life of a man consists not in seeing visions and in dreaming dreams, but in active charity and in willing service
Ah! vainest of all things
Is the gratitude of kings.
Ah! vainest of all things
Is the gratitude of kings.
Seize the loud, vociferous fells, and
Clashing, clanging to the pavement
Hurl them from their windy tower!
Seize the loud, vociferous fells, and
Clashing, clanging to the pavement
Hurl them from their windy tower!
Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance.
. . . .
And, when the echoes had read more
Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance.
. . . .
And, when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was the
silence.
The swallow is come!
The swallow is come!
O, fair are the seasons, and light
read more
The swallow is come!
The swallow is come!
O, fair are the seasons, and light
Are the days that she brings,
With her dusky wings,
And her bosom snowy white!
