William Cullen Bryant Quotes

These struggling tides of life that seem In wayward, aimless course to tend, Are eddies of the mighty stream That rolls to its appointed end.

William Cullen Bryant

Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again; The eternal years of God are hers; But Error, wounded, writhes with pain, And dies among his worshippers.

William Cullen Bryant

When April winds Grew soft, the maple burst into a flush Of scarlet flowers. The tulip tree, high up, Opened in airs of June her multitude Of golden chalices to humming-birds And silken-wing'd insects of the sky.

William Cullen Bryant

These are the gardens of the Desert, these The unshorn fields, boundless and beautiful, For which the speech of England has no name The Prairies.

William Cullen Bryant

Maidens hearts are always soft: Would that men's were truer!

William Cullen Bryant

The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere.

William Cullen Bryant

Thou unrelenting Past! Strong are the barriers round thy dark domain, And fetters, sure and fast, Hold all that enter thy unbreathing reign.

William Cullen Bryant

Loveliest of lovely things are they, On earth, that soonest pass away. The rose that lives its little hour Is prized beyond the sculptured flower.

William Cullen Bryant

And the blue gentian flower, that, in the breeze, Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.

William Cullen Bryant

Weep not that the world changesdid it keep A stable, changeless state, 'twere cause indeed to weep.

William Cullen Bryant

Remorse is virtue's root; its fair increase Are fruits of innocence and blessedness.

William Cullen Bryant

They talk of short-lived pleasuresbe it so pain dies as quickly: stern, hard-featured pain Expires, and lets her weary prisoner go. The fiercest agonies have shortest reign; And after dreams of horror, comes again The welcome morning with its rays of peace.

William Cullen Bryant

Ah, why Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore Only among the crowd and under roofs That our frail hands have raised?

William Cullen Bryant

Oh, sun! that o'er the western mountains now Goest down in glory! ever beautiful And blessed is thy radiance, whether thou Colourest the eastern heaven and night-mist cool, Till the bright day-star vanish, or on high Climbest and streamest thy white splendours from mid-sky.

William Cullen Bryant

Here the free spirit of mankind, at length, Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place A limit to the giant's unchained strength, Or curb his swiftness in the forward race!

William Cullen Bryant
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