Quotes
Quotes - Longfellow
A feeling of sadness and longing
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares that infest the day
Shall fold their tents like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.
Sail on, O Ship of State!
Sail on, O Union, strong and great!
Humanity with all its fears,
With all the hopes of future years,
Is hanging breathless on thy fate!
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,--
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our faith trumphant o'er our fears,
Are all with thee,--are all with thee!
The leaves of memory seemed to make
A mournful rustling in the dark.
There is no flock, however watched and tended,
But one dead lamb is there;
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended,
But has one vacant chair.
The air is full of farewells to the dying,
And mournings for the dead.
But oftentimes celestial benedictions
Assume this dark disguise.
What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers
May be heaven's distant lamps.
There is no death! What seems so is transition;
This life of mortal breath
Is but a suburb of the life elysian,
Whose portal we call Death.
Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution,
She lives whom we call dead.
In the elder days of Art,
Builders wrought with greatest care
Each minute and unseen part;
For the gods see everywhere.
This is the forest primeval.
Alike were they free from
Fear that reigns with the tyrant, and envy the vice of republics.
Neither locks had they to their doors nor bars to their windows;
But their dwellings were open as day and the hearts of the owners;
There the richest was poor and the poorest lived in abundance.
When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music.
Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.
Talk not of wasted affection! affection never was wasted;
If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters returning
Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment.
Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike.
And as she looked around, she saw how Death the consoler,
Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed it forever.
Saint Augustine! well hast thou said,
That of our vices we can frame
A ladder, if we will but tread
Beneath our feet each deed of shame.
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.
The surest pledge of a deathless name
Is the silent homage of thoughts unspoken.
He has singed the beard of the king of Spain.
The love of learning, the sequestered nooks,
And all the sweet serenity of books.
