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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
Overflow
Gladness
Pauses
Tender
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More quotes by William C. Bryant
I hear the howl of the wind that brings The long drear storm on its heavy wings.
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Winning isn't everything, but it beats anything in second place.
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Or, bide thou where the poppy blows With windflowers fail and fair.
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It is said to be the manner of hypochondriacs to change often their physician.
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There is a day of sunny rest For every dark and troubled night And grief may hide an evening guest, But joy shall come with early light.
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Beautiful isles! beneath the sunset skies tall, silver-shafted palm-trees rise, between full orange-trees that shade the living colonade.
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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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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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It is a sultry day the sun has drunk The dew that lay upon the morning grass There is no rustling in the lofty elm That canopies my dwelling, and its shade Scarce cools me. All is silent, save the faint And interrupted murmur of the bee, Settling on the sick flowers, And then again Instantly on the wing.
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A sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty.
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The February sunshine steeps your boughs and tints the buds and swells the leaves within.
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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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Pleasantly, between the pelting showers, the sunshine gushes down.
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And at my silent window-sill The jessamine peeps in.
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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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Follow thou thy choice.
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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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I grieve for life's bright promise, just shown and then withdrawn.
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Error's monstrous shapes from earth are driven They fade, they fly--but truth survives the flight.
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