Volume 1 / Part 1 / Act 2 — HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.
Reading edition
A Psalm of Life.
Tell me not, in mournful numbers, "Life is but an empty dream!" For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting.
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time.
Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait.
The Light of Stars.
Know how sublime a thing it is To suffer and be strong.
It is not always May.
For Time will teach thee soon the truth, There are no birds in last year's nest!
Maidenhood.
Standing, with reluctant feet, Where the brook and river meet, Womanhood and childhood fleet!
The Goblet of Life.
O suffering, sad humanity! O ye afflicted ones, who lie Steeped to the lips in misery, Longing, and yet afraid to die, Patient, though sorely tried!
Resignation.
There is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dear lamb is there! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair.
The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead.
The Golden Legend.
Time has laid his hand Upon my heart, gently, not smiting it, But as a harper lays his open palm Upon his harp, to deaden its vibrations.