Home > Picture Quotes > Author > Henry Wadsworth Longfellow > The soul never grows old.
The soul never grows old.
In the elder days of art Builders wrought with greatest care Each
Ah, how wonderful is the advent of the Spring!—the great annual
When you ask one friend to dine, Give him your best wine!
For in the night, unseen, a single warrior, In sombre harness mailed,
When we walk towards the sun of Truth, all shadows are cast behind us.
Autumn arrives like a warrior with the stain of blood upon his
In ourselves are triumph and defeat.
Thinking the deed, and not the creed, Would help us in our utmost need.
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