Quote

The air was fragrant with a thousand trodden aromatic herbs, with fields of lavender, and with the brightest roses blushing in tufts all over the meadows.

William C. Bryant

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

William C. Bryant
Flower
Fragrant
Fields
Blushing
Thousand
Brightest
Herbs
Meadows
Tufts
Roses
Aromatic
Rose
Trodden
Air
Lavender

More quotes by William C. Bryant

Image
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
Image
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
Image
Heed not the night A summer lodge amid the wild is mine, 'Tis shadowed by the tulip-tree, 'Tis mantled by the vine.
William C. Bryant
Image
The little wind-flower, whose just opened eye Is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at.
William C. Bryant
Image
Truth crushed to the earth will rise again!
William C. Bryant
Image
Pain dies quickly, and lets her weary prisoners go the fiercest agonies have shortest reign.
William C. Bryant
Image
I grieve for life's bright promise, just shown and then withdrawn.
William C. Bryant
Image
Self-interest is the most ingenious and persuasive of all the agents that deceive our consciences, while by means of it our unhappy and stubborn prejudices operate in their greatest force.
William C. Bryant
Image
The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.
William C. Bryant
Image
And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief.
William C. Bryant
Image
Follow thou thy choice.
William C. Bryant
Image
Maidens hearts are always soft: Would that men's were truer!
William C. Bryant
Image
Still sweet with blossoms is the year's fresh prime.
William C. Bryant
Image
Autumn, the year's last, loveliest smile.
William C. Bryant
Image
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
Image
It is said to be the manner of hypochondriacs to change often their physician.
William C. Bryant
Image
The birch-bark canoe of the savage seems to me one of the most beautiful and perfect things of the kind constructed by human art.
William C. Bryant
Image
On my cornice linger the ripe black grapes ungathered Children fill the groves with the echoes of their glee, Gathering tawny chestnuts, and shouting when beside them Drops the heavy fruit of the tall black-walnut tree.
William C. Bryant
Image
Eloquence is the poetry of prose.
William C. Bryant
Image
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