Henry Van Dyke
Henry Jackson van Dyke was an American author, educator, and clergyman.
Henry van Dyke was born on November 11 , 1852 in Germantown, Pennsylvania in the United States. He graduated from Princeton University in 1873 and from Princeton Theological Seminary, 1877 and served as a professor of English literature at Princeton between 1899 and 1923. In 1908-09 Dr. van Dyke was an American lecturer at the University of Paris. By appointment of President Wilson he became Minister to the Netherlands and Luxembourg in 1913. He was elected to the American Academy of Arts and Letters and received many other honors. Van Dyke was an "ardent foe of the annexation of the... more »
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Henry Van Dyke Poems
Time is Too Slow for those who Wait, Too Swift for those who Fear, Too Long for those who Grieve,
A Prayer for a Mother's Birthday
Lord Jesus, Thou hast known A mother's love and tender care: And Thou wilt hear, while for my own Mother most dear I make this birthday prayer.
I put my heart to school In the world, where men grow wise, "Go out," I said, "and learn the rule; Come back when you win a prize."
A Home Song
I read within a poet's book A word that starred the page: "Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage!"
Oh, why are you shining so bright, big Sun, And why is the garden so gay? Do you know that my days of delight are done, Do you know I am going away?
America for Me
'Tis fine to see the Old World and travel up and down Among the famous palaces and cities of renown, To admire the crumblyh castles and the statues and kings But now I think I've had enough of antiquated things.
A Mile With Me
O who will walk a mile with me Along life's merry way? A comrade blithe and full of glee, Who dares to laugh out loud and free,
Let me but do my work from day to day, In field or forest, at the desk or loom, In roaring market-place or tranquil room; Let me but find it in my heart to say,
Doors of Daring
The mountains that enfold the vale With walls of granite, steep and high, Invite the fearless foot to scale Their stairway toward the sky.
Autumn in the Garden
When the frosty kiss of Autumn in the dark Makes its mark On the flowers, and the misty morning grieves Over fallen leaves;
Let me but live my life from year to year, With forward face and unreluctant soul; Not hurrying to, nor turning from the goal; Not mourning for the things that disappear
Home, for my heart still calls me; Home, through the danger zone; Home, whatever befalls me, I will sail again to my own!
I love thine inland seas, Thy groves of giant trees, Thy rolling plains; Thy rivers' mighty sweep,
A Lover's Envy
I envy every flower that blows Along the meadow where she goes, And every bird that sings to her, And every breeze that brings to her
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Too Slow for those who Wait,
Too Swift for those who Fear,
Too Long for those who Grieve,
Too Short for those who Rejoice;
But for those who Love,
Time is not.