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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
Agony
Reign
Prisoner
Weary
Fiercest
Fierce
Agonies
Quickly
Shortest
Dies
Prisoners
Pain
Lets

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I hear the howl of the wind that brings The long drear storm on its heavy wings.
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These struggling tides of life that seem In wayward, aimless course to tend, Are eddies of the mighty stream That rolls to its appointed end.
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Showers and sunshine bring, Slowly, the deepening verdure o'er the earth To put their foliage out, the woods are slack, And one by one the singing-birds come back.
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The victory of endurance born.
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The summer morn is bright and fresh, the birds are darting by. As if they loved to breast the breeze that sweeps the cool clear sky.
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Lay down the axe fling by the spade Leave in its track the toiling plough The rifle and the bayonet-blade For arms like yours were fitter now And let the hands that ply the pen Quit the light task, and learn to wield The horseman's crooked brand, and rein The charger on the battle-field.
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The fiercest agonies have shortest reign And after dreams of horror, comes again The welcome morning with its rays of peace.
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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.
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The air was fragrant with a thousand trodden aromatic herbs, with fields of lavender, and with the brightest roses blushing in tufts all over the meadows.
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All that tread, the globe are but a handful to the tribes, that slumber in its bosom.
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Pleasantly, between the pelting showers, the sunshine gushes down.
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And kind the voice and glad the eyes That welcome my return at night.
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And the blue gentian-flower, that, in the breeze, Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.
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Adversity is the nurse of greatness which roughly rocks her patients back to health.
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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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But Winter has yet brighter scenes-he boasts Splendors beyond what gorgeous Summer knows Or Autumn with his many fruits, and woods All flushed with many hues.
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Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings.
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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.
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Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste.
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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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