Quote

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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William C. Bryant
Black
Beside
Linger
Children
Echoes
Grove
Gathering
Glee
Tall
Drops
Tawny
Fill
Grapes
Walnut
Fruit
Shouting
Walnuts
Heavy
November
Groves
Tree
Ripe
Chestnuts

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Autumn, the year's last, loveliest smile.
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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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[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.
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God hath yoked to guilt her pale tormentor,--misery.
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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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Error's monstrous shapes from earth are driven They fade, they fly--but truth survives the flight.
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A herd of prairie-wolves will enter a field of melons and quarrel about the division of the spoils as fiercely and noisily as so many politicians.
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The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.
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Maidens hearts are always soft: Would that men's were truer!
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