A boy’s will is the wind’s will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Between the dark and the daylight, When the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the day’s occupation, That is known as the Children’s Hour.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
But the great Master said, “I see No best in kind, but in degree; I gave a various gift to each, To charm, to strengthen, and to teach.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
God sent his Singers upon earth With songs of sadness and of mirth, That they might touch the hearts of men, And bring them back to heaven again.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we should find in each man’s life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I hear in the chamber above me The patter of little feet, The sound of a door that is opened, And voices soft and sweet.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I shot an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Look not mournfully into the Past. It comes not back again. Wisely improve the Present. It is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy Future, without fear, and with a manly heart.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Look, then, into thine heart, and write!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Music is the universal language of mankind — poetry their universal pastime and delight.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Never here, forever there, Where all parting, pain, and care, And death, and time shall disappear,— Forever there, but never here! The horologe of Eternity Sayeth this incessantly,— “Forever — never! Never — forever!”
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
No man is so poor as to have nothing worth giving. Give what you have. To someone it may be better than you dare to think.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Nothing useless is, or low; Each thing in its place is best; And what seems but idle show Strengthens and supports the rest.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The grave itself is but a covered bridge, Leading from light to light, through a brief darkness!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The heights by great men reached and kept Were not attained by sudden flight, But they, while their companions slept, Were toiling upward in the night.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
There is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The warriors that fought for their country, and bled, Have sunk to their rest; the damp earth is their bed; No stone tells the place where their ashes repose, Nor points out the spot from the graves of their foes.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Time has laid his hand Upon my heart, gently, not smiting it, But as a harper lays his open palm Upon his harp, to deaden its vibrations.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Ye are better than all the ballads That ever were sung or said; For ye are living poems, And all the rest are dead.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow