Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes

Under a spreading chestnut-tree The village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1809-1882), U.S. poet. The Village Blacksmith (l. 1-6). . . Oxford Book of American Light Verse, The. William Harmon, ed. (1979) Oxford University Press.
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Such as the wreck of the Hesperus, In the midnight and the snow! Christ save us all from a death like this, On the reef of Norman's Woe!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1809-1882), U.S. poet. The Wreck of the Hesperus (l. 85-88). . . Oxford Book of Narrative Verse, The. Iona Opie and Peter Opie, eds. (1983) Oxford University Press.
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At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, A fisherman stood aghast, To see the form of a maiden fair, Lashed close to a drifting mast.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1809-1882), U.S. poet. The Wreck of the Hesperus (l. 77-80). . . Oxford Book of Narrative Verse, The. Iona Opie and Peter Opie, eds. (1983) Oxford University Press.
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It was the schooner Hesperus, That sailed the wintry sea; And the skipper had taken his little daughter, To bear him company.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1809-1882), U.S. poet. The Wreck of the Hesperus (l. 1-4). . . Oxford Book of Narrative Verse, The. Iona Opie and Peter Opie, eds. (1983) Oxford University Press.
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I stay a little longer, as one stays, To cover up the embers that still burn.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882), U.S. poet. Three Friends of Mine.
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To be seventy years old is like climbing the Alps. You reach a snow-crowned summit, and see behind you the deep valley stretching miles and miles away, and before you other summits higher and whiter, which you may have strength to climb, or may not. Then you sit down and meditate and wonder which it will be.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882), U.S. poet. Letter, March 13, 1877.
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Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream!— For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1809-1882), U.S. poet. A Psalm of Life (l. 1-8). . . Norton Anthology of American Literature, The, Vols. I-II. Nina Baym and others, eds. (2d ed., 1985) W. W. Norton & Company.
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Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sand of time.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882), U.S. poet. A Psalm of Life, st. 7, Voies of the Night (1839).
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Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time;
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1809-1882), U.S. poet. A Psalm of Life (l. 25-28). . . Norton Anthology of American Literature, The, Vols. I-II. Nina Baym and others, eds. (2d ed., 1985) W. W. Norton & Company.
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Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1809-1882), U.S. poet. A Psalm of Life (l. 33-36). . . Norton Anthology of American Literature, The, Vols. I-II. Nina Baym and others, eds. (2d ed., 1985) W. W. Norton & Company.
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