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Virtue cannot dwell with slaves, nor reign O'er those who cower to take a tyrant's yoke.

William C. Bryant

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William C. Bryant
Reign
Slaves
Tyrants
Slave
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Virtue
Yoke
Cannot
Tyrant
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Servitude
Dwell

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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!
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God hath yoked to guilt her pale tormentor,--misery.
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The moon is at her full, and riding high, Floods the calm fields with light. The airs that hover in the summer sky Are all asleep to-night.
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The birch-bark canoe of the savage seems to me one of the most beautiful and perfect things of the kind constructed by human art.
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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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The sad and solemn night hath yet her multitude of cheerful fires The glorious host of light walk the dark hemisphere till she retires All through her silent watches, gliding slow, Her constellations come, and climb the heavens, and go.
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Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson, Yet our full-leaved willows are in the freshest green. Such a kindly autumn, so mercifully dealing With the growths of summer, I never yet have seen.
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Music is not merely a study, it is an entertainment wherever there is music there is a throng of listeners.
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Look on this beautiful world, and read the truth in her fair page.
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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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A sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty.
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Tender pauses speak The overflow of gladness, When words are all too weak.
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Poetry is the eloquence of verse.
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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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Pain dies quickly, and lets her weary prisoners go the fiercest agonies have shortest reign.
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The right to discuss freely and openly, by speech, by the pen, by the press, all political questions, and to examine the animadvert upon all political institutions is a right so clear and certain, so interwoven with our other liberties, so necessary, in fact, to their existence, that without it we must fall into despotism and anarchy.
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Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again.
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I grieve for life's bright promise, just shown and then withdrawn.
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When April winds Grew soft, the maple burst into a flush Of scarlet flowers. The tulip tree, high up, Opened in airs of June her multitude Of golden chalices to humming-birds And silken-wing'd insects of the sky.
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Ah, why Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore Only among the crowd and under roofs That our frail hands have raised?
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