Thus, seamed with many scars Bursting these prison bars, Up to its…

Thus, seamed with many scars
Bursting these prison bars,
Up to its native stars
My soul ascended!
There from the flowing bowl
Deep drinks the warrior’s soul,
Skoal! to the Northland! skoal!
—Thus the tale ended.

Sourced

The Skeleton in Armor , st. 20 (1841)

Other Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes

The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;
The secret anniversaries of the heart,
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O Bells of San Blas in vain
Ye call back the Past again;
The Past is deaf to your prayer!
Out of the shadows of night
The world rolls into light;
It is daybreak everywhere. - View Quote Details on O Bells of San Blas in vain
Ye call back the…
There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good,
She was very good indeed,
But when she was bad she was horrid. - View Quote Details on There was a little girl,
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Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day. - View Quote Details on Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
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One, if by land, and two, if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm
For the country folk to be up and to arm. - View Quote Details on One, if by land, and two, if by sea;
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Saint Augustine! well hast thou said,
That of our vices we can frame
A ladder, if we will but tread
Beneath our feet each deed of shame! - View Quote Details on Saint Augustine! well hast thou said,
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Ah, nothing is too late
Till the tired heart shall cease to palpitate. - View Quote Details on Ah, nothing is too late
Till the tired heart shall cease…
Three Silences there are: the first of speech,
The second of desire, the third of thought;
This is the lore a Spanish monk, distraught
With dreams and visions, was the first to teach. - View Quote Details on Three Silences there are: the first of speech,
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This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms. - View Quote Details on This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the…
Art is the child of Nature; yes,
Her darling child, in whom we trace
The features of the mother’s face,
Her aspect and her attitude,
All her majestic loveliness
Chastened and softened and subdued
Into a more attractive grace,
And with a human sense imbued.
He is the greatest artist, then,
Whether of pencil or of pen,
Who follows Nature. - View Quote Details on Art is the child of Nature; yes,
Her darling child, in…