Quote

Beautiful isles! beneath the sunset skies tall, silver-shafted palm-trees rise, between full orange-trees that shade the living colonade.

William C. Bryant

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

William C. Bryant
Beautiful
Tall
Isle
Silver
Palm
Trees
Skies
Rise
Palms
Sky
Orange
Tree
Sunset
Full
Shade
Shafted
Living
Beneath
Isles

More quotes by William C. Bryant

Image
Showers and sunshine bring, Slowly, the deepening verdure o'er the earth To put their foliage out, the woods are slack, And one by one the singing-birds come back.
William C. Bryant
Image
Pleasantly, between the pelting showers, the sunshine gushes down.
William C. Bryant
Image
Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson.
William C. Bryant
Image
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!
William C. Bryant
Image
The hushed winds their Sabbath keep.
William C. Bryant
Image
The right to discuss freely and openly, by speech, by the pen, by the press, all political questions, and to examine the animadvert upon all political institutions is a right so clear and certain, so interwoven with our other liberties, so necessary, in fact, to their existence, that without it we must fall into despotism and anarchy.
William C. Bryant
Image
Truth gets well if she is run over by a locomotive, while error dies of lockjaw if she scratches her finger.
William C. Bryant
Image
Error's monstrous shapes from earth are driven They fade, they fly--but truth survives the flight.
William C. Bryant
Image
A sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty.
William C. Bryant
Image
All that tread, the globe are but a handful to the tribes, that slumber in its bosom.
William C. Bryant
Image
The rose that lives its little hour Is prized beyone the sculpted flower.
William C. Bryant
Image
God hath yoked to guilt her pale tormentor,--misery.
William C. Bryant
Image
A melancholy sound is in the air, A deep sigh in the distance, a shrill wail Around my dwelling. 'Tis the Wind of night.
William C. Bryant
Image
Yet will that beauteous image make The dreary sea less drear And thy remembered smile will wake The hope that tramples fear
William C. Bryant
Image
Look on this beautiful world, and read the truth in her fair page.
William C. Bryant
Image
I hear the howl of the wind that brings The long drear storm on its heavy wings.
William C. Bryant
Image
Ah, passing few are they who speak, Wild, stormy month! in praise of thee Yet though thy winds are loud and bleak, Thou art a welcome month to me. For thou, to northern lands, again The glad and glorious sun dost bring, And thou hast joined the gentle train And wear'st the gentle name of Spring.
William C. Bryant
Image
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.
William C. Bryant
Image
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.
William C. Bryant
Image
Tender pauses speak The overflow of gladness, When words are all too weak.
William C. Bryant