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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
Young
Stood
Sister
Beauteous
Flowers
Sprang
Fairs
Airs
Fair
Softer
Air
Sisterhood
Flower
Lately
Light
Brighter

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Here the free spirit of mankind, at length, Throws its last fetters off and who shall place A limit to the giant's unchained strength, Or curb his swiftness in the forward race?
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He [William Henry Harrison] did not live long enough to prove his incapacity for the office of President.
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Genius, with all its pride in its own strength, is but a dependent quality, and cannot put forth its whole powers nor claim all its honors without an amount of aid from the talents and labors of others which it is difficult to calculate.
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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!
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Adversity is the nurse of greatness which roughly rocks her patients back to health.
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Difficulty is the nurse of greatness.
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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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The press, important as is its office, is but the servant of the human intellect, and its ministry is for good or for evil, according to the character of those who direct it. The press is a mill which grinds all that is put into its hopper. Fill the hopper with poisoned grain, and it will grind it to meal, but there is death in the bread.
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Thou blossom bright with autumn dew, And colored with the heaven's own blue.
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Maidens hearts are always soft: Would that men's were truer!
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Difficulty, my brethren, is the nurse of greatness - a harsh nurse, who roughly rocks her foster children into strength and athletic proportion.
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Self-interest is the most ingenious and persuasive of all the agents that deceive our consciences, while by means of it our unhappy and stubborn prejudices operate in their greatest force.
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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.
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I shall seeThe hour of death draw near to me,Hope, blossoming within my heart. . . .
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Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson.
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I gazed upon the glorious sky And the green mountains round, And thought that when I came to lie At rest within the ground, 'Twere pleasant, that in flowery June When brooks send up a cheerful tune, And groves a joyous sound, The sexton's hand, my grave to make, The rich, green mountain-turf should break.
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The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one as before will chase His favourite phantom yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come, And make their bed with thee.
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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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