Pity, pity me, my father!
(The Son Of The Evening Star)
More Quotes from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:
Look, then, into thine heart, and write.Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The morning pouring everywhere, its golden glory on the air.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O golden prime,
And affluence of love and time!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A feeling of sadness and longing That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
We see but dimly through the mists and vapors Amid these earthly damps What seem to us but sad, funeral tapers May be heaven's distant lamps.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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