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Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?

William C. Bryant

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William C. Bryant
Flowers
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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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Remorse is virtue's root its fair increase is fruits of innocence and blessedness.
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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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So they, who climb to wealth, forget The friends in darker fortunes tried. I copied them--but I regret That I should ape the ways of pride.
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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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Yet will that beauteous image make The dreary sea less drear And thy remembered smile will wake The hope that tramples fear
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Autumn, the year's last, loveliest smile.
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The victory of endurance born.
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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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Still sweet with blossoms is the year's fresh prime.
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War, like all other situations of danger and of change, calls forth the exertion of admirable intellectual qualities and great virtues, and it is only by dwelling on these, and keeping out of sight the sufferings and sorrows, and all the crimes and evils that follow in its train, that it has its glory in the eyes of men.
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Truth gets well if she is run over by a locomotive, while error dies of lockjaw if she scratches her finger.
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Is not thy home among the flowers?
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The hushed winds their Sabbath keep.
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All great poets have been men of great knowledge.
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Features, the great soul's apparent seat.
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