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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 C. Bryant

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William C. Bryant
Things
Flower
Sculptured
Love
Beyond
Soonest
Life
Hours
Loveliest
Lives
Prized
Away
Lovely
Earth
Pass
Littles
Rose
Little
Hour

More quotes by William C. Bryant

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Father, thy hand Hath reared these venerable columns, thou Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun, Budded, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze, And shot towards heaven.
William C. Bryant
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The sweet calm sunshine of October, now Warms the low spot upon its grassy mold The pur0ple oak-leaf falls the birchen bough drops its bright spoil like arrow-heads of gold.
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A stable, changeless state, 'twere cause indeed to weep.
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Truth crushed to the earth will rise again!
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The rugged trees are mingling Their flowery sprays in love The ivy climbs the laurel To clasp the boughs above.
William C. Bryant
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Or, bide thou where the poppy blows With windflowers fail and fair.
William C. Bryant
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Yet will that beauteous image make The dreary sea less drear And thy remembered smile will wake The hope that tramples fear
William C. Bryant
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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.
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Tender pauses speak The overflow of gladness, When words are all too weak.
William C. Bryant
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But 'neath yon crimson tree Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame, Nor mark, within its roseate canopy, Her blush of maiden shame.
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Genius, with all its pride in its own strength, is but a dependent quality, and cannot put forth its whole powers nor claim all its honors without an amount of aid from the talents and labors of others which it is difficult to calculate.
William C. Bryant
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Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings.
William C. Bryant
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Hark to that shrill, sudden shout, The cry of an applauding multitude, Swayed by some loud-voiced orator who wields The living mass as if he were its soul!
William C. Bryant
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Is not thy home among the flowers?
William C. Bryant
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Stand here by my side and turn, I pray, On the lake below thy gentle eyes The clouds hang over it, heavy and gray, And dark and silent the water lies And out of that frozen mist the snow In wavering flakes begins to flow Flake after flake, They sink in the dark and silent lake.
William C. Bryant
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That make the meadows green and, poured round all, Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste,-- Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man.
William C. Bryant
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War, like all other situations of danger and of change, calls forth the exertion of admirable intellectual qualities and great virtues, and it is only by dwelling on these, and keeping out of sight the sufferings and sorrows, and all the crimes and evils that follow in its train, that it has its glory in the eyes of men.
William C. Bryant
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Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?
William C. Bryant
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[Thanatopsis] was written in 1817, when Bryant was 23. Had he died then, the world would have thought it had lost a great poet. But he lived on.
William C. Bryant
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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