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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.
William C. Bryant
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More quotes by William C. Bryant
Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings.
William C. Bryant
Ah! never shall the land forget How gushed the life-blood of her brave -
William C. Bryant
The groves were God's first temples.
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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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It is said to be the manner of hypochondriacs to change often their physician.
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The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.
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All great poets have been men of great knowledge.
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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?
William C. Bryant
A melancholy sound is in the air, A deep sigh in the distance, a shrill wail Around my dwelling. 'Tis the Wind of night.
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Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste.
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And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, and the year smiles as it draws near its death.
William C. Bryant
The groves were God's first temple. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, And spread the roof above them,--ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back The sound of anthems in the darkling wood, Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks And supplication.
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Truth crushed to the earth will rise again!
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The mighty Rain Holds the vast empire of the sky alone.
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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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A stable, changeless state, 'twere cause indeed to weep.
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The hushed winds their Sabbath keep.
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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.
William C. Bryant
Winning isn't everything, but it beats anything in second place.
William C. Bryant
And kind the voice and glad the eyes That welcome my return at night.
William C. Bryant