Quote

Look on this beautiful world, and read the truth in her fair page.

William C. Bryant

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

William C. Bryant
Pages
Read
Beautiful
Truth
Earth
Page
Look
Fairs
Looks
World
Fair

More quotes by William C. Bryant

Image
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.
William C. Bryant
Image
And kind the voice and glad the eyes That welcome my return at night.
William C. Bryant
Image
Error's monstrous shapes from earth are driven They fade, they fly--but truth survives the flight.
William C. Bryant
Image
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
Image
It is a sultry day the sun has drunk The dew that lay upon the morning grass There is no rustling in the lofty elm That canopies my dwelling, and its shade Scarce cools me. All is silent, save the faint And interrupted murmur of the bee, Settling on the sick flowers, And then again Instantly on the wing.
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
Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again.
William C. Bryant
Image
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
Image
He [William Henry Harrison] did not live long enough to prove his incapacity for the office of President.
William C. Bryant
Image
Is not thy home among the flowers?
William C. Bryant
Image
God hath yoked to guilt her pale tormentor,--misery.
William C. Bryant
Image
Ah, never shall the land forget How gush'd the life-blood of the brave, Gush'd warm with hope and courage yet, Upon the soil they fought to save!
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
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
Image
[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
Image
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
Image
Do not the bright June roses blow To meet thy kiss at morning hours?
William C. Bryant
Image
Maidens hearts are always soft: Would that men's were truer!
William C. Bryant
Image
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.
William C. Bryant
Image
Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste.
William C. Bryant