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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.
William C. Bryant
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William C. Bryant
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More quotes by William C. Bryant
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
It is said to be the manner of hypochondriacs to change often their physician.
William C. Bryant
I grieve for life's bright promise, just shown and then withdrawn.
William C. Bryant
The press, important as is its office, is but the servant of the human intellect, and its ministry is for good or for evil, according to the character of those who direct it. The press is a mill which grinds all that is put into its hopper. Fill the hopper with poisoned grain, and it will grind it to meal, but there is death in the bread.
William C. Bryant
Flowers spring up unsown and die ungathered.
William C. Bryant
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.
William C. Bryant
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
And at my silent window-sill The jessamine peeps in.
William C. Bryant
The groves were God's first temples.
William C. Bryant
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
The rugged trees are mingling Their flowery sprays in love The ivy climbs the laurel To clasp the boughs above.
William C. Bryant
Eloquence is the poetry of prose.
William C. Bryant
Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste.
William C. Bryant
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
Maidens hearts are always soft: Would that men's were truer!
William C. Bryant
Thou blossom bright with autumn dew, And colored with the heaven's own blue.
William C. Bryant
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.
William C. Bryant
Ah! never shall the land forget.
William C. Bryant
Genius, with all its pride in its own strength, is but a dependent quality, and cannot put forth its whole powers nor claim all its honors without an amount of aid from the talents and labors of others which it is difficult to calculate.
William C. Bryant
[Thanatopsis] was written in 1817, when Bryant was 23. Had he died then, the world would have thought it had lost a great poet. But he lived on.
William C. Bryant