Knocking On Impeachment’s Door

Perseverance is a great element of success.  If you only knock long enough and loud enough at the gate, you are sure to wake up somebody.
—  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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On This Day In:
2018	Do You Remember?
2017	Choose Life
	My Response To President Trump’s Threat To NBC
2016	We, Us, All
2015	No Less
2014	Life Advice (50)
	Orange October (IV) – Giants Win Game 1 Of NLCS!
2013	Running To
2012	Suddenly
2011	Liberal Washington
2010	Giants Advance To NLCS!!

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Judgment

We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done.
—  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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On This Day In:
2015	I Love Bacon, Too
2014	The Wee Bit
2013	Reading Rules
2012	Cadet Prayer
2011	Easy To Tell
2010	A NEW Lion In The Senate (Channeling Mr. Smith)
	Inception Redux
	A Quick Hit Of Stats

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Patience Is A Virtue

Retribution
Though the mills of God grind slowly,
Yet they grind exceeding small;
Though with patience he stands waiting,
With exactness grinds he all.
—  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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On This Day In:
2015	Slow Faith
2014	Not In Any Sense
2013	The Circus On TV
2012	To Be Stronger
2011	Are You Sure?

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Come, Read To Me Some Poem

The Day Is Done
The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.
I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o’er me
That my soul cannot resist:
A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.
Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.
For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life’s endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.
Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;
Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.
Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.
Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.
And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.
—   Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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On This Day In:
2015	Exceeding Service
2014	Still Learning
	Hospitality
2013	Execution Not Intensity
2012	Charles Carroll Of Carrollton (The Only Catholic Founder)
2011	Life Works
	Pay Like Hell
	Prosperity Finds Its Way Up

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The Beauty Of Thy Voice

The Day is Done
The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.
I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o’er me
That my soul cannot resist:
A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.
Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.
For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life’s endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.
Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;
Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.
Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.
Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.
And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.
—  By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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On This Day In:
2014	Faith In Men
2013	An Average Verge
2012	Dew Drop Secrets
2011	Champion Freedom

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Either / Or

In this world, a man must either be an anvil or a hammer.
—  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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On This Day In:
2014	Memorial Day – 2014
	Perfection
2013	Memorial Day Video
	Equal = Equal
2012	Congrats, Nephew!!
	Doggie Vision Networks
	The Flash: Omnibus
	JLI: vol 1
	Flash: Rebirth
	Burning Images
	What Do You Believe?
2011	Are We Still At War With The Poor?

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Footprints

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sand of time;
—  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
From his poem:  “A Psalm of Life“
[You can find the entire poem on my Poems page.  —  KMAB]
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