There is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickl… - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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There is a Reaper, whose name is Death,
And, with his sickle keen,
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
And the flowers that grow between.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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About Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (27 February 1807 – 24 March 1882) was an American poet and one of the five members of the group known as the Fireside Poets.

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Alternative Names: Henry W. Longfellow • H. W. Longfellow • Longfellow

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Alfred Tennyson William Butler Yeats Samuel Taylor Coleridge William Wordsworth John Greenleaf Whittier

Additional quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

St. 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!

For his heart was in his work, and the heart giveth grace unto every art.

Sweet as the tender fragrance that survives,
When martyred flowers breathe out their little lives,
Sweet as a song that once consoled our pain,
But never will be sung to us again,
Is they remembrance. Now the hour of rest
Hath come to thee. Sleep, darling: it is best.

There is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between. - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

About Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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