Quote

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.

William C. Bryant

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

William C. Bryant
Night
Silent
Cheerful
Constellations
Light
Watches
Climb
Hemisphere
Come
Walk
Climbs
Fires
Walks
Hath
Multitude
Fire
Host
Heavens
Stars
Glorious
Multitudes
Dark
Slow
Solemn
Retires
Heaven
Till
Retiring
Gliding

More quotes by William C. Bryant

Image
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.
William C. Bryant
Image
Beautiful isles! beneath the sunset skies tall, silver-shafted palm-trees rise, between full orange-trees that shade the living colonade.
William C. Bryant
Image
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
Image
Virtue cannot dwell with slaves, nor reign O'er those who cower to take a tyrant's yoke.
William C. Bryant
Image
The little wind-flower, whose just opened eye Is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at.
William C. Bryant
Image
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
Image
Poetry is the eloquence of verse.
William C. Bryant
Image
And the blue gentian-flower, that, in the breeze, Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.
William C. Bryant
Image
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.
William C. Bryant
Image
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.
William C. Bryant
Image
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
Image
All things that are on earth shall wholly pass away, Except the love of God, which shall live and last for aye.
William C. Bryant
Image
The February sunshine steeps your boughs and tints the buds and swells the leaves within.
William C. Bryant
Image
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.
William C. Bryant
Image
Alas! to seize the moment When the heart inclines to heart, And press a suit with passion, Is not a woman's part. If man come not to gather The roses where they stand, They fade among their foliage, They cannot seek his hand.
William C. Bryant
Image
Music is not merely a study, it is an entertainment wherever there is music there is a throng of listeners.
William C. Bryant
Image
Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson.
William C. Bryant
Image
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!
William C. Bryant
Image
I shall seeThe hour of death draw near to me,Hope, blossoming within my heart. . . .
William C. Bryant
Image
The linden, in the fervors of July, Hums with a louder concert. When the wind Sweeps the broad forest in its summer prime, As when some master-hand exulting sweeps The keys of some great organ, ye give forth The music of the woodland depths, a hymn Of gladness and of thanks.
William C. Bryant