Quote

The fiercest agonies have shortest reign And after dreams of horror, comes again The welcome morning with its rays of peace.

William C. Bryant

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

William C. Bryant
Morning
Agonies
Peace
Shortest
Comes
Agony
Dream
Reign
Rays
Welcome
Horror
Dreams
Fiercest

More quotes by William C. Bryant

Image
The rose that lives its little hour Is prized beyone the sculpted flower.
William C. Bryant
Image
The air was fragrant with a thousand trodden aromatic herbs, with fields of lavender, and with the brightest roses blushing in tufts all over the meadows.
William C. Bryant
Image
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.
William C. Bryant
Image
Lo! while we are gazing, in swifter haste Stream down the snows, till the air is white, As, myriads by myriads madly chased, They fling themselves from their shadowy height. The fair, frail creatures of middle sky, What speed they make, with their grave so nigh Flake after flake, To lie in the dark and silent lake!
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
Truth crushed to earth shall rise again,- The eternal years of God are hers But Error, wounded, writhes with pain, And dies among his worshippers.
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
Image
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.
William C. Bryant
Image
God hath yoked to guilt her pale tormentor,--misery.
William C. Bryant
Image
All great poets have been men of great knowledge.
William C. Bryant
Image
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.
William C. Bryant
Image
Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again.
William C. Bryant
Image
I hear the howl of the wind that brings The long drear storm on its heavy wings.
William C. Bryant
Image
Oh, river! darkling river! what a voice Is that thou utterest while all else is still-- The ancient voice that, centuries ago, Sounded between thy hills, while Rome was yet A weedy solitude by Tiber's stream!
William C. Bryant
Image
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
Image
The stormy March has come at last, With winds and clouds and changing skies I hear the rushing of the blast That through the snowy valley flies.
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
The February sunshine steeps your boughs and tints the buds and swells the leaves within.
William C. Bryant
Image
There is no glory in star or blossom till looked upon by a loving eye There is no fragrance in April breezes till breathed with joy as they wander by.
William C. Bryant
Image
Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson.
William C. Bryant