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• Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine.
  -- Henry W. Longfellow (1807-1882) -- Flowe...
• There is no death! What seems so is transition; This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death.
  -- Henry W. Longfellow (1807-1882) -- Resignatio...
• Bullshit makes the flowers grow and that's beautiful.
• And as she looked around, she saw how Death the consoler, Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed it forever.
  -- Henry W. Longfellow (1807-1882) -- Evangeline, Part ii...
• The surest pledge of a deathless name Is the silent homage of thoughts unspoken.
  -- Henry W. Longfellow (1807-1882) -- The Herons of Elmwood...
• Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath, And stars to se
  but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!...
• She floats upon the river of his thoughts. -- Henry W.
  Longfellow (1807-1882) -- The Spanish Student, Act ii, Sc. 3...
• He has singed the beard of the king of Spain. -- Henry W.
  Longfellow (1807-1882) -- The Dutch Picture...
• Sydneian showers Of sweet discourse, whose powers Can crown old Winter's head with flowers.
  -- Richard Crashaw (c. 1616-1650) -- Wishes to his Supposed Mistre...