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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes - Page 10

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The Devil hinders me. You know I say Just what I think, and nothing more nor less, And, when I pray, my heart is in my prayer. I cannot say one thing and mean another. If I can't pray, I will not make believe!

The Devil hinders me. You know I say Just what I think, and nothing more nor less, And, when I pray, my heart is in my prayer. I cannot say one thing and mean another. If I can't pray, I will not make believe!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Mean, Thinking, Sincerity
"Selected Poems".

Chill air and wintry winds! My ear has grown familiar with your song; I hear it in the opening year, I listen, and it cheers me long.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Song, Cheer, Winter
William Cullen Bryant, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Grenville Mellen, United States. Literary Gazette (1826). “Miscellaneous poems selected from the United States Literary Gazette”, p.113

It is the Harvest Moon! On gilded vanes and roofs of villages, on woodland crests and their aerial neighborhoods of nests deserted, on the curtained window-panes of rooms where children sleep, on country lanes and harvest-fields, its mystic splendor rests.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Country, Children, Sleep
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Illustrated)”, p.1002, Delphi Classics

Time is the life of the soul.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Inspirational, Soul

There are two angels that attend unseen Each one of us, and in great books record Our good and evil deeds. He who writes down The good ones, after every action closes His volume, and ascends with it to God. The other keeps his dreadful day-book open Till sunset, that we may repent; which doing, The record of the action fades away, And leaves a line of white across the page. Now if my act be good, as I believe it, It cannot be recalled. It is already Sealed up in heaven, as a good deed accomplished. The rest is yours.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Book, Believe, Sunset
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1856). “Poetical Works by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: Illustrated with Upwards of One Hundred and Sixty Engravings on Wood, from Designs by Jane E. Benham, Birket Foster, Etc”, p.388

O little souls! as pure as white And crystalline as rays of light Direct from heaven, their source divine; Refracted through the mist of years, How red my setting sun appears, How lurid looks this soul of mine!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Years, White, Light
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1867). “The Poetical Works of H. W. Longfellow. Complete Edition”, p.331

Not chance of birth or place has made us friends, Being oftentimes of different tongues and nations, But the endeavor for the selfsame ends, With the same hopes, and fears, and aspirations.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Friendship, Different, Tongue
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1871). “The Poetical Works”, p.126

We are all architects of faith, ever living in these walls of time.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Wall, Architect

Let us then, be up and doing.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Intriguing
"A Psalm of Life" st. 9 (1838)

Softly the evening came. The sun from the western horizon Like a magician extended his golden want o'er the landscape; Trinkling vapors arose; and sky and water and forest Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and mingled together.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Sunset, Fire, Sky
"Poems" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Boston: Ticknor and Fields, 1863.

An angel visited the green earth, and took a flower away.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Flower, Angel, Earth
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “Voices Of The Night: The Reaper And The Flowers”

It was Autumn, and incessant Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves, And, like living coals, the apples Burned among the withering leaves.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Autumn, Apples, Coal
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1867). “The Poetical Works of H. W. Longfellow. Complete Edition”, p.137

O gift of God! O perfect day: Whereon shall no man work, but play; Whereon it is enough for me, Not to be doing, but to be!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Men, Perfect Days, Play
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, J. D. McClatchy (2000). “Poems and Other Writings”, p.351, Library of America

In December ring Every day the chimes; Loud the gleemen sing In the streets their merry rhymes. Let us by the fire Ever higher Sing them till the night expire!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Night, Fire, December
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1867). “The Poetical Works of H. W. Longfellow. Complete Edition”, p.145

Does not all the blood within me Leap to meet thee, leap to meet thee, As the springs to meet the sunshine.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Life, Spring, Sunshine
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, J. D. McClatchy (2000). “Poems and Other Writings”, p.209, Library of America

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
Strong, Men, Hands
"The Village Blacksmith" st. 1 (1839)

Each morning sees some task begin, each evening sees it close.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Morning, Labor Day, Tasks
"The Village Blacksmith" st. 7 (1839)

The story, from beginning to end, I found again in a heart of a friend.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Friendship, Heart, Stories

It has done me good to be somewhat parched by the heat and drenched by the rain of life.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Life, Gratitude, Rain
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1857). “Prose Works”, p.94

If I am not worth the wooing, I surely am not worth the winning!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Witty, Inspirational Love, Winning
"The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow".

Magnificent autumn! He comes not like a pilgrim, clad in russet weeds; not like a hermit, clad in gray; but like a warrior with the stain of blood in his brazen mail.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Weed, Autumn, Warrior

Doubtless criticism was originally benignant, pointing out the beauties of a work rather that its defects. The passions of men have made it malignant, as a bad heart of Procreates turned the bed, the symbol of repose, into an instrument of torture.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Heart, Passion, Men

It was the schooner Hesperus, That sailed the wintry sea.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Sea
'The Wreck of the Hesperus' (1839)

That tree is very old, but I never saw prettier blossoms on it than it now bears. That tree grows new wood each year. Like that apple tree, I try to grow a new little wood each year.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Success, Years, Apples

Mine is the Month of Roses; yes, and mine The Month of Marriages! All pleasant sights And scents, the fragrance of the blossoming vine, The foliage of the valleys and the heights. Mine are the longest days, the loveliest nights; The mower's scythe makes music to my ear; I am the mother of all dear delights; I am the fairest daughter of the year.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Daughter, Mother, Spring
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Illustrated)”, p.1047, Delphi Classics

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