White swan of cities slumbering in thy nest . . . White phantom city, whose untrodden streets Are rivers, and whose pavements are the shifting Shadows of the palaces and strips of sky.
Henry Wadsworth LongfellowAutumn arrives like a warrior with the stain of blood upon his brazen mail. His crimson scarf is rent. His scarlet banner drips with gore. His step is like a flail upon the threshing floor.
Henry Wadsworth LongfellowLet us then be up and doing, With a heart for any fate, Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow