Quote

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 C. Bryant

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

William C. Bryant
Place
Strength
Throws
Shall
Giant
Race
Giants
Lasts
Limit
Last
Length
Unchained
Freedom
Forward
Swiftness
Free
Limits
Fetters
Spirit
Mankind
Curb

More quotes by William C. Bryant

Image
The journalist should be on his guard against publishing what is false in taste or exceptionable in morals.
William C. Bryant
Image
But Winter has yet brighter scenes-he boasts Splendors beyond what gorgeous Summer knows Or Autumn with his many fruits, and woods All flushed with many hues.
William C. Bryant
Image
I shall seeThe hour of death draw near to me,Hope, blossoming within my heart. . . .
William C. Bryant
Image
Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings.
William C. Bryant
Image
Thine eyes are springs in whose serene And silent waters heaven is seen. Their lashes are the herbs that look On their young figures in the brook.
William C. Bryant
Image
Eloquence is the poetry of prose.
William C. Bryant
Image
Oh, river! darkling river! what a voice Is that thou utterest while all else is still-- The ancient voice that, centuries ago, Sounded between thy hills, while Rome was yet A weedy solitude by Tiber's stream!
William C. Bryant
Image
The stormy March has come at last, With winds and clouds and changing skies I hear the rushing of the blast That through the snowy valley flies.
William C. Bryant
Image
The gentle race of flowers Are lying in their lowly beds.
William C. Bryant
Image
Music is not merely a study, it is an entertainment wherever there is music there is a throng of listeners.
William C. Bryant
Image
And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief.
William C. Bryant
Image
I hear the howl of the wind that brings The long drear storm on its heavy wings.
William C. Bryant
Image
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 C. Bryant
Image
Ere, in the northern gale, The summer tresses of the trees are gone, The woods of Autumn, all around our vale, Have put their glory on.
William C. Bryant
Image
The mighty Rain Holds the vast empire of the sky alone.
William C. Bryant
Image
The groves were God's first temple. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, And spread the roof above them,--ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back The sound of anthems in the darkling wood, Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks And supplication.
William C. Bryant
Image
The moon is at her full, and riding high, Floods the calm fields with light. The airs that hover in the summer sky Are all asleep to-night.
William C. Bryant
Image
Christ taught an astonishing thing about physical death: not merely that it is an experience robbed of its terror but that as an experience it does not exist at all. To sleep in Christ, like one that wraps the drapery of his couch about him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
William C. Bryant
Image
Error's monstrous shapes from earth are driven They fade, they fly--but truth survives the flight.
William C. Bryant
Image
Pleasantly, between the pelting showers, the sunshine gushes down.
William C. Bryant