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Ah, never shall the land forget How gush'd the life-blood of the brave, Gush'd warm with hope and courage yet, Upon the soil they fought to save!

William C. Bryant

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William C. Bryant
Shall
Gush
Land
Fought
Forget
Soil
Upon
Warm
Hope
Brave
Never
Save
Life
Courage
Blood

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Yet will that beauteous image make The dreary sea less drear And thy remembered smile will wake The hope that tramples fear
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I hear the howl of the wind that brings The long drear storm on its heavy wings.
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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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Ah! never shall the land forget.
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The journalist should be on his guard against publishing what is false in taste or exceptionable in morals.
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Lay down the axe fling by the spade Leave in its track the toiling plough The rifle and the bayonet-blade For arms like yours were fitter now And let the hands that ply the pen Quit the light task, and learn to wield The horseman's crooked brand, and rein The charger on the battle-field.
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The victory of endurance born.
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So they, who climb to wealth, forget The friends in darker fortunes tried. I copied them--but I regret That I should ape the ways of pride.
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I shall seeThe hour of death draw near to me,Hope, blossoming within my heart. . . .
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Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste.
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Thou blossom bright with autumn dew, And colored with the heaven's own blue.
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Poetry is the eloquence of verse.
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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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A stable, changeless state, 'twere cause indeed to weep.
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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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Error's monstrous shapes from earth are driven They fade, they fly--but truth survives the flight.
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And kind the voice and glad the eyes That welcome my return at night.
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Difficulty, my brethren, is the nurse of greatness - a harsh nurse, who roughly rocks her foster children into strength and athletic proportion.
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Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings.
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Beautiful isles! beneath the sunset skies tall, silver-shafted palm-trees rise, between full orange-trees that shade the living colonade.
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