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Tender pauses speak The overflow of gladness, When words are all too weak.

William C. Bryant

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William C. Bryant
Gladness
Pauses
Tender
Weak
Words
Speak
Overflow

More quotes by William C. Bryant

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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.
William C. Bryant
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Your peaks are beautiful, ye Apennines! In the soft light of these serenest skies From the broad highland region, black with pines, Fair as the hills of Paradise they rise, Bathed in the tint Peruvian slaves behold In rosy flushes on the virgin gold.
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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.
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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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Remorse is virtue's root its fair increase is fruits of innocence and blessedness.
William C. Bryant
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Poetry is the eloquence of verse.
William C. Bryant
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Ere, in the northern gale, The summer tresses of the trees are gone, The woods of Autumn, all around our vale, Have put their glory on.
William C. Bryant
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Or, bide thou where the poppy blows With windflowers fail and fair.
William C. Bryant
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The gentle race of flowers Are lying in their lowly beds.
William C. Bryant
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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.
William C. Bryant
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Christ taught an astonishing thing about physical death: not merely that it is an experience robbed of its terror but that as an experience it does not exist at all. To sleep in Christ, like one that wraps the drapery of his couch about him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
William C. Bryant
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Adversity is the nurse of greatness which roughly rocks her patients back to health.
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Poetry is that art which selects and arranges the symbols of thought in such a manner as to excite the imagination the most powerfully and delightfully.
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A sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty.
William C. Bryant
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The hushed winds their Sabbath keep.
William C. Bryant
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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.
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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.
William C. Bryant
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Truth crushed to the earth will rise again!
William C. Bryant
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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?
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Difficulty is the nurse of greatness.
William C. Bryant