Local Hangout/Quotes

But from the parlor of the inn A pleasant murmur smote the ear,
Like water rushing through a weir: Oft interrupted by the din
Of laughter and of loud applause, And, in each intervening pause,
The music of a violin.The fire-light, shedding over all
The splendor of its ruddy glow,Filled the whole parlor large and low;
It gleamed on wainscot and on wall,It touched with more than wonted grace
Fair Princess Mary's pictured face;It bronzed the rafters overhead,
On the old spinet's ivory keys
It played inaudible melodies,It crowned the sombre clock with flame,
The hands, the hours, the maker's name,
And painted with a livelier red The Landlord's coat-of-arms again;
And, flashing on the window-pane,Emblazoned with its light and shade
The jovial rhymes, that still remain,Writ near a century ago,
By the great Major Molineaux, Whom Hawthorne has immortal made.

—Tales of a Wayside Inn by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow