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Ah! never shall the land forget How gushed the life-blood of her brave -

William C. Bryant

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William C. Bryant
Shall
Land
Forget
Never
Gushed
Life
Memorial
Uplifting
Brave
Blood

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To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language.
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The gentle race of flowers Are lying in their lowly beds.
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Come when the rains Have glazed the snow and clothed the trees with ice, While the slant sun of February pours Into the bowers a flood of light. Approach! The incrusted surface shall upbear thy steps And the broad arching portals of the grove Welcome thy entering.
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And kind the voice and glad the eyes That welcome my return at night.
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Winning isn't everything, but it beats anything in second place.
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Music is not merely a study, it is an entertainment wherever there is music there is a throng of listeners.
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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.
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Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson.
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The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one as before will chase His favourite phantom yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come, And make their bed with thee.
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He [William Henry Harrison] did not live long enough to prove his incapacity for the office of President.
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Pain dies quickly, and lets her weary prisoners go the fiercest agonies have shortest reign.
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Poetry is that art which selects and arranges the symbols of thought in such a manner as to excite the imagination the most powerfully and delightfully.
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Pleasantly, between the pelting showers, the sunshine gushes down.
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Virtue cannot dwell with slaves, nor reign O'er those who cower to take a tyrant's yoke.
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Fairest of all that earth beholds, the hues That live among the clouds, and flush the air, Lingering, and deepening at the hour of dews.
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Thou blossom bright with autumn dew, And colored with the heaven's own blue.
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Eloquence is the poetry of prose.
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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.
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Look on this beautiful world, and read the truth in her fair page.
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And the blue gentian-flower, that, in the breeze, Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.
William C. Bryant