Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes about Summer

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Oh, how beautiful is the summer night, which is not night, but a sunless, yet unclouded, day, descending upon earth with dews and shadows and refreshing coolness! How beautiful the long mild twilight, which, like a

Oh, how beautiful is the summer night, which is not night, but a sunless, yet unclouded, day, descending upon earth with dews and shadows and refreshing coolness! How beautiful the long mild twilight, which, like a silver clasp, unites today with yesterday!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Beautiful, Summer, Twilight

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1854). “Poems. New edition”, p.410

There is a beautiful spirit breathing now Its mellowed richness on the clustered trees, And, from a beaker full of richest dyes, Pouring new glory on the autumn woods, And dipping in warm light the pillared clouds. Morn on the mountain, like a summer bird, Lifts up her purple wing, and in the vales The gentle wind, a sweet and passionate wooer, Kisses the blushing leaf, and stirs up life Within the solemn woods of ash deep-crimsoned, And silver beech, and maple yellow-leaved, Where Autumn, like a faint old man, sits down By the wayside a-weary.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Beautiful, Summer, Sweet

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Illustrated)”, p.70, Delphi Classics

O beautiful, awful summer day, what hast thou given, what taken away?

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Beautiful, Summer, Taken

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Illustrated)”, p.1057, Delphi Classics

Gone are the living, but the dead remain, And not neglected; for a hand unseen, Scattering its bounty like a summer rain, Still keeps their graves and their remembrance green.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Life, Summer, Tombstone

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1859). “The Complete Poetical Works”, p.607

Read from some humbler poet, Whose songs gushed from his heart, As showers from the clouds of summer, Or tears from the eyelids start.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Summer, Song, Heart

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1848). “Poems”, p.108

What is time? The shadow on the dial, the striking of the clock, the running of the sand, day and night, summer and winter, months, years, centuries-these are but arbitrary and outward signs, the measure of Time, not Time itself. Time is the Life of the Soul.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Inspirational, Summer, Running

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1854). “The Works of Henry W. Longfellow”

Then followed that beautiful season... Summer.... Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Beautiful, Summer, June

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1988). “Selected Poems”, p.31, Penguin

O summer day beside the joyous sea! O summer day so wonderful and white, So full of gladness and so full of pain! Forever and forever shalt thou be To some the gravestone of a dead delight, To some the landmark of a new domain.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Summer, Pain, July

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1875). “The Masque of Pandora: And Other Poems”, p.140