Quote

Pleasantly, between the pelting showers, the sunshine gushes down.

William C. Bryant

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

William C. Bryant
Pleasantly
Showers
Sunshine
Sun
Gushes

More quotes by 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
The mighty Rain Holds the vast empire of the sky alone.
William C. Bryant
Image
Flowers spring up unsown and die ungathered.
William C. Bryant
Image
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
Image
Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste.
William C. Bryant
Image
And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, and the year smiles as it draws near its death.
William C. Bryant
Image
Showers and sunshine bring, Slowly, the deepening verdure o'er the earth To put their foliage out, the woods are slack, And one by one the singing-birds come back.
William C. Bryant
Image
It is said to be the manner of hypochondriacs to change often their physician.
William C. Bryant
Image
Do not the bright June roses blow To meet thy kiss at morning hours?
William C. Bryant
Image
Yet will that beauteous image make The dreary sea less drear And thy remembered smile will wake The hope that tramples fear
William C. Bryant
Image
The victory of endurance born.
William C. Bryant
Image
I shall seeThe hour of death draw near to me,Hope, blossoming within my heart. . . .
William C. Bryant
Image
Eloquence is the poetry of prose.
William C. Bryant
Image
And at my silent window-sill The jessamine peeps in.
William C. Bryant
Image
Autumn, the year's last, loveliest smile.
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
Loveliest of lovely things are they, On earth, that soonest pass away. The rose that lives its little hour Is prized beyond the sculptured flower.
William C. Bryant
Image
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.
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
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