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Do not the bright June roses blow To meet thy kiss at morning hours?

William C. Bryant

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William C. Bryant
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More quotes by William C. Bryant

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The linden, in the fervors of July, Hums with a louder concert. When the wind Sweeps the broad forest in its summer prime, As when some master-hand exulting sweeps The keys of some great organ, ye give forth The music of the woodland depths, a hymn Of gladness and of thanks.
William C. Bryant
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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
William C. Bryant
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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.
William C. Bryant
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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.
William C. Bryant
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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
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He [William Henry Harrison] did not live long enough to prove his incapacity for the office of President.
William C. Bryant
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Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson.
William C. Bryant
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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
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But 'neath yon crimson tree Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame, Nor mark, within its roseate canopy, Her blush of maiden shame.
William C. Bryant
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Adversity is the nurse of greatness which roughly rocks her patients back to health.
William C. Bryant
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Difficulty is the nurse of greatness.
William C. Bryant
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Pleasantly, between the pelting showers, the sunshine gushes down.
William C. Bryant
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Flowers spring up unsown and die ungathered.
William C. Bryant
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The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one as before will chase His favourite phantom yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come, And make their bed with thee.
William C. Bryant
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The fiercest agonies have shortest reign And after dreams of horror, comes again The welcome morning with its rays of peace.
William C. Bryant
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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.
William C. Bryant
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The journalist should be on his guard against publishing what is false in taste or exceptionable in morals.
William C. Bryant
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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.
William C. Bryant
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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.
William C. Bryant
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The air was fragrant with a thousand trodden aromatic herbs, with fields of lavender, and with the brightest roses blushing in tufts all over the meadows.
William C. Bryant