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Pain dies quickly, and lets her weary prisoners go the fiercest agonies have shortest reign.

William C. Bryant

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William C. Bryant
Quickly
Shortest
Dies
Prisoners
Pain
Lets
Agony
Reign
Prisoner
Weary
Fiercest
Fierce
Agonies

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Tender pauses speak The overflow of gladness, When words are all too weak.
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Ah! never shall the land forget How gushed the life-blood of her brave -
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Autumn, the year's last, loveliest smile.
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Flowers spring up unsown and die ungathered.
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The linden, in the fervors of July, Hums with a louder concert. When the wind Sweeps the broad forest in its summer prime, As when some master-hand exulting sweeps The keys of some great organ, ye give forth The music of the woodland depths, a hymn Of gladness and of thanks.
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There is a day of sunny rest For every dark and troubled night And grief may hide an evening guest, But joy shall come with early light.
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Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson.
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Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste.
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Your peaks are beautiful, ye Apennines! In the soft light of these serenest skies From the broad highland region, black with pines, Fair as the hills of Paradise they rise, Bathed in the tint Peruvian slaves behold In rosy flushes on the virgin gold.
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Ere, in the northern gale, The summer tresses of the trees are gone, The woods of Autumn, all around our vale, Have put their glory on.
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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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Gently - so have good men taught - Gently, and without grief, the old shall glide Into the new the eternal flow of things, Like a bright river of the fields of heaven, Shall journey onward in perpetual peace.
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That make the meadows green and, poured round all, Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste,-- Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man.
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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.
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The journalist should be on his guard against publishing what is false in taste or exceptionable in morals.
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Eloquence is the poetry of prose.
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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.
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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.
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The victory of endurance born.
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