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And kind the voice and glad the eyes That welcome my return at night.
William C. Bryant
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William C. Bryant
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More quotes by William C. Bryant
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
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
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.
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Follow thou thy choice.
William C. Bryant
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.
William C. Bryant
All great poets have been men of great knowledge.
William C. Bryant
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.
William C. Bryant
The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.
William C. Bryant
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.
William C. Bryant
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
[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.
William C. Bryant
There is a day of sunny rest For every dark and troubled night And grief may hide an evening guest, But joy shall come with early light.
William C. Bryant
Do not the bright June roses blow To meet thy kiss at morning hours?
William C. Bryant
Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson, Yet our full-leaved willows are in the freshest green. Such a kindly autumn, so mercifully dealing With the growths of summer, I never yet have seen.
William C. Bryant
Pain dies quickly, and lets her weary prisoners go the fiercest agonies have shortest reign.
William C. Bryant
To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language.
William C. Bryant
All that tread, the globe are but a handful to the tribes, that slumber in its bosom.
William C. Bryant
The groves were God's first temples.
William C. Bryant
The February sunshine steeps your boughs and tints the buds and swells the leaves within.
William C. Bryant
Winning isn't everything, but it beats anything in second place.
William C. Bryant