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Maidens hearts are always soft: Would that men's were truer!

William C. Bryant

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William C. Bryant
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More quotes by William C. Bryant

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The groves were God's first temple. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, And spread the roof above them,--ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back The sound of anthems in the darkling wood, Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks And supplication.
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Here the free spirit of mankind, at length, Throws its last fetters off and who shall place A limit to the giant's unchained strength, Or curb his swiftness in the forward race?
William C. Bryant
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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
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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.
William C. Bryant
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And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, and the year smiles as it draws near its death.
William C. Bryant
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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
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The little wind-flower, whose just opened eye Is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at.
William C. Bryant
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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.
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Or, bide thou where the poppy blows With windflowers fail and fair.
William C. Bryant
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Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste.
William C. Bryant
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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
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And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief.
William C. Bryant
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Virtue cannot dwell with slaves, nor reign O'er those who cower to take a tyrant's yoke.
William C. Bryant
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Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again.
William C. Bryant
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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.
William C. Bryant
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The summer morn is bright and fresh, the birds are darting by. As if they loved to breast the breeze that sweeps the cool clear sky.
William C. Bryant
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A stable, changeless state, 'twere cause indeed to weep.
William C. Bryant
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The groves were God's first temples.
William C. Bryant
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Eloquence is the poetry of prose.
William C. Bryant
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Thine eyes are springs in whose serene And silent waters heaven is seen. Their lashes are the herbs that look On their young figures in the brook.
William C. Bryant