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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
Never
Gushed
Life
Memorial
Uplifting
Brave
Blood
Shall
Land
Forget

More quotes by William C. Bryant

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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
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Lo! while we are gazing, in swifter haste Stream down the snows, till the air is white, As, myriads by myriads madly chased, They fling themselves from their shadowy height. The fair, frail creatures of middle sky, What speed they make, with their grave so nigh Flake after flake, To lie in the dark and silent lake!
William C. Bryant
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There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way.
William C. Bryant
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A herd of prairie-wolves will enter a field of melons and quarrel about the division of the spoils as fiercely and noisily as so many politicians.
William C. Bryant
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When April winds Grew soft, the maple burst into a flush Of scarlet flowers. The tulip tree, high up, Opened in airs of June her multitude Of golden chalices to humming-birds And silken-wing'd insects of the sky.
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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Maidens hearts are always soft: Would that men's were truer!
William C. Bryant
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Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson, Yet our full-leaved willows are in the freshest green. Such a kindly autumn, so mercifully dealing With the growths of summer, I never yet have seen.
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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The hushed winds their Sabbath keep.
William C. Bryant
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There is no glory in star or blossom till looked upon by a loving eye There is no fragrance in April breezes till breathed with joy as they wander by.
William C. Bryant
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All things that are on earth shall wholly pass away, Except the love of God, which shall live and last for aye.
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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All great poets have been men of great knowledge.
William C. Bryant
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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
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On rolls the stream with a perpetual sigh The rocks moan wildly as it passes by Hyssop and wormwood border all the strand, And not a flower adorns the dreary land.
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.
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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Features, the great soul's apparent seat.
William C. Bryant