To-morrow! the mysterious, unknown guest, Who cries to me: “Remember Barmecide, And — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The Wreck of the Hesperus But the father answered never a word, A frozen corpse was he. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The tragic element in poetry is like Saturn in alchemy, the Malevolent, — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls, The burial-ground God’s-Acre. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Weak minds make treaties with the passions they cannot overcome, and try — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
He had mittens, Minjekahwun, Magic mittens made of deer-skin; When upon his — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Some critics are like chimney-sweepers; they put out the fire below, and — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Under a spreading chestnut-tree The village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow