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Fairest of all that earth beholds, the hues That live among the clouds, and flush the air, Lingering, and deepening at the hour of dews.

William C. Bryant

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William C. Bryant
Among
Fairest
Hours
Hue
Earth
Lingering
Live
Dew
Dews
Evening
Beholds
Clouds
Hues
Hour
Flush
Air
Deepening

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The victory of endurance born.
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The hushed winds their Sabbath keep.
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And kind the voice and glad the eyes That welcome my return at night.
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Is not thy home among the flowers?
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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.
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Poetry is the eloquence of verse.
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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.
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These struggling tides of life that seem In wayward, aimless course to tend, Are eddies of the mighty stream That rolls to its appointed end.
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Ah! never shall the land forget.
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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.
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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.
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The rose that lives its little hour Is prized beyone the sculpted flower.
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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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Heed not the night A summer lodge amid the wild is mine, 'Tis shadowed by the tulip-tree, 'Tis mantled by the vine.
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Self-interest is the most ingenious and persuasive of all the agents that deceive our consciences, while by means of it our unhappy and stubborn prejudices operate in their greatest force.
William C. Bryant
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Truth crushed to the earth will rise again!
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And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, and the year smiles as it draws near its death.
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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!
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All that tread, the globe are but a handful to the tribes, that slumber in its bosom.
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The groves were God's first temples.
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