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Ah! never shall the land forget.

William C. Bryant

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William C. Bryant
Memorial
Shall
Land
Forget
Never

More quotes by William C. Bryant

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Or, bide thou where the poppy blows With windflowers fail and fair.
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Difficulty, my brethren, is the nurse of greatness - a harsh nurse, who roughly rocks her foster children into strength and athletic proportion.
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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.
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There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way.
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Pleasantly, between the pelting showers, the sunshine gushes down.
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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?
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All great poets have been men of great knowledge.
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Ah! never shall the land forget How gushed the life-blood of her brave -
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Ah, passing few are they who speak, Wild, stormy month! in praise of thee Yet though thy winds are loud and bleak, Thou art a welcome month to me. For thou, to northern lands, again The glad and glorious sun dost bring, And thou hast joined the gentle train And wear'st the gentle name of Spring.
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A sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty.
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The hushed winds their Sabbath keep.
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Alas! to seize the moment When the heart inclines to heart, And press a suit with passion, Is not a woman's part. If man come not to gather The roses where they stand, They fade among their foliage, They cannot seek his hand.
William C. Bryant
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I gazed upon the glorious sky And the green mountains round, And thought that when I came to lie At rest within the ground, 'Twere pleasant, that in flowery June When brooks send up a cheerful tune, And groves a joyous sound, The sexton's hand, my grave to make, The rich, green mountain-turf should break.
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Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again.
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Flowers spring up unsown and die ungathered.
William C. Bryant
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The groves were God's first temples.
William C. Bryant
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Poetry is the eloquence of verse.
William C. Bryant
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Do not the bright June roses blow To meet thy kiss at morning hours?
William C. Bryant
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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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Sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
William C. Bryant