Ah, how good it feels! The hand of an old friend.
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

As Unto the bow the the cord is ,

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I do not believe anyone can be perfectly well, who has a brain and a heart

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Midnight! the outpost of advancing day!

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The nearer the dawn

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

And the night shall be filled with music,

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The love of learning, the sequestered nooks,

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Straight between them ran the pathway,

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Yes, we must ever be friends; and of all who offer you friendship let me be ever the first, the truest, the nearest and dearest!

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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