Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes - Page 19

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• Take them, O Death! and bear away Whatever thou canst call thine own! Thine image, stamped upon this clay, Doth give thee that, but that alone!

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Sad, Giving, Clay

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1871). “The Poetical Works”, p.139

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• Something the heart must have to cherish, Must love and joy and sorrow learn; Something with passion clasp, or perish And in itself to ashes burn.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Passion, Learning, Heart

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2008). “Michael Angelo and Translations”, p.289, Wildside Press LLC

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• Maiden, that read'st this simple rhyme, Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay; Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime, For oh, it is not always May!

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Simple, May, Youth

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1871). “The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow”, p.216

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• I am never indifferent, and never pretend to be, to what people say or think of my books. They are my children, and I like to have them liked.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Children, Book, Thinking

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• Don Quixote thought he could have made beautiful bird-cages and toothpicks if his brain had not been so full of ideas of chivalry. Most people would succeed in small things if they were not troubled with great ambitions.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Beautiful, Ambition, Ideas

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, J. D. McClatchy (2000). “Poems and Other Writings”, p.796, Library of America

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• As Unto the bow the the cord is , So unto the man is woman; Though she bends him, she obeys him, Though she draws him , yet she follows: Useless each without the other.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Marriage, Men, Useless

  The Song of Hiawatha pt. 10 (1855)

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• All was ended now, the hope, and the fear and the sorrow,
  All the aching of the heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing,
  All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of patience!

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Pain, Heart, Grieving

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1861). “The poetical works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, including his translations and notes”, p.40

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• Sculpture is more divine, and more like Nature, That fashions all her works in high relief, And that is Sculpture. This vast ball, the Earth, Was moulded out of clay, and baked in fire; Men, women, and all animals that breathe Are statues, and not paintings.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Fashion, Animal, Men

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Illustrated)”, p.1578, Delphi Classics

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• No one is so accursed by fate, no one so utterly desolate, but some heart though unknown responds unto his own.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Heart, Fate, Destiny

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1849). “The Poems of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow ; Complete in One Volume”, p.49

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• Think of your woods and orchards without birds! Of empty nests that cling to boughs and beams As in an idiot's brain remembered words Hang empty 'mid the cobwebs of his dreams!

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Dream, Thinking, Bird

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Illustrated)”, p.743, Delphi Classics

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• Work is my recreation,
  The play of faculty; a delight like that
  Which a bird feels in flying, or a fish
  In darting through the water,--Nothing more.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Work, Play, Water

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2008). “Michael Angelo and Translations”, p.88, Wildside Press LLC

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• The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
  It rains, and the wind in never weary;
  The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
  But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
  And the day is dark and dreary.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Wall, Rain, Fall

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, J. D. McClatchy (2000). “Poems and Other Writings”, p.18, Library of America

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• Were a star quenched on high,For ages would its light,Still travelling downward from the sky,Shine on our mortal sight. So when a great man dies,For years beyond our ken,The light he leaves behind him liesUpon the paths of men.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Stars, Men, Sky

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Illustrated)”, p.937, Delphi Classics

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• The true poet is a friendly man. He takes to his arms even cold and inanimate things, and rejoices in his heart.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Heart, Men, Friendly

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1873). “Prose Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow”, p.373

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• Now to rivulets from the mountains Point the rods of fortune-tellers; Youth perpetual dwells in fountains, Not in flasks, and casks, and cellars.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Drinking, Mountain, Youth

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1849). “The Poems of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow ; Complete in One Volume”, p.110

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• The secret studies of an author are the sunken piers upon which is to rest the bridge of his fame, spanning the dark waters of oblivion. They are out of sight, but without them no superstructure can stand secure.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Dark, Sight, Bridges

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2012). “Hyperion”, p.185, Jazzybee Verlag

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• Autumn arrives like a warrior with the stain of blood upon his brazen mail. His crimson scarf is rent. His scarlet banner drips with gore. His step is like a flail upon the threshing floor.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Autumn, Warrior, Blood

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• What heart has not acknowledged the influence of this hour, the sweet and soothing hour of twilight, the hour of love, the hour of adoration, the hour of rest, when we think of those we love only to regret that we have not loved them more dearly, when we remember our enemies only to forgive them.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Sweet, Regret, Twilight

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• Sweet as the tender fragrance that survives, When martyred flowers breathe out their little lives, Sweet as a song that once consoled our pain, But never will be sung to us again, Is they remembrance. Now the hour of rest Hath come to thee. Sleep, darling: it is best.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Song, Sweet, Pain

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Illustrated)”, p.994, Delphi Classics

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• I am weary of your quarrels, Weary of your wars and bloodshed, Weary of your prayers for vengeance, Of your wranglings and dissensions

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Prayer, War, Vengeance

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1871). “The poetical works of Henry W. Longfellow, ed. with a critical memoir by W.M. Rossetti, illustr. by W. Lawson. Illustr. by E. Edwards”, p.173

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• Shepherds at the grange, Where the Babe was born, Sang with many a change, Christmas carols until morn.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Christmas, Shepherds, Babe

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1869). “The Poetical Works”, p.608

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• Such was 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

  Snow, Midnight, Wrecks

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1859). “Poems. New, complete ed”, p.95

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• Sweet is the air with the budding haws, and the valley stretching for miles below
  Is white with blossoming cherry-trees, as if just covered with lighted snow.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Sweet, White, Air

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• Whoever benefits his enemy with straightforward intention that man's enemies will soon fold their hands in devotion.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Reality, Men, Hands

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• When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Music, Headstone, Exquisite

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2012). “Evangeline (Annotated Student's Edition)”, p.27, Jazzybee Verlag

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