Like black hulks the shadows of the great trees ride at anchor on the billowy sea of grass.
Henry Wadsworth LongfellowDay, like a weary pilgrim, had reached the western gate of heaven, and Evening stooped down to unloose the latchets of his sandal shoon.
Henry Wadsworth LongfellowLook not mournfully into the past, it comes not back again. Wisely improve the present, it is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy future without fear and with a manly heart.
Henry Wadsworth LongfellowThey are dead; but they live in each Patriot's breast, And their names are engraven on honor's bright crest.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow