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Still sweet with blossoms is the year's fresh prime.

William C. Bryant

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William C. Bryant
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Truth gets well if she is run over by a locomotive, while error dies of lockjaw if she scratches her finger.
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Do not the bright June roses blow To meet thy kiss at morning hours?
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The hushed winds their Sabbath keep.
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Pain dies quickly, and lets her weary prisoners go the fiercest agonies have shortest reign.
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Thou blossom bright with autumn dew, And colored with the heaven's own blue.
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It is said to be the manner of hypochondriacs to change often their physician.
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Ere, in the northern gale, The summer tresses of the trees are gone, The woods of Autumn, all around our vale, Have put their glory on.
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Truth crushed to the earth will rise again!
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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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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?
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Thou who wouldst see the lovely and the wild Mingled in harmony on Nature's face, Ascend our rocky mountains. Let thy foot Fail not with weariness, for on their tops The beauty and the majesty of earth, Spread wide beneath, shall make thee to forget The steep and toilsome way.
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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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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.
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Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings.
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Stand here by my side and turn, I pray, On the lake below thy gentle eyes The clouds hang over it, heavy and gray, And dark and silent the water lies And out of that frozen mist the snow In wavering flakes begins to flow Flake after flake, They sink in the dark and silent lake.
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Adversity is the nurse of greatness which roughly rocks her patients back to health.
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Ah! never shall the land forget.
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All great poets have been men of great knowledge.
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Pleasantly, between the pelting showers, the sunshine gushes down.
William C. Bryant
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There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way.
William C. Bryant