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I hear the howl of the wind that brings The long drear storm on its heavy wings.

William C. Bryant

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William C. Bryant
Hear
Long
Drear
Howl
Storm
Brings
Wings
Heavy
Wind

More quotes by William C. Bryant

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Here the free spirit of mankind, at length, Throws its last fetters off and who shall place A limit to the giant's unchained strength, Or curb his swiftness in the forward race?
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Remorse is virtue's root its fair increase is fruits of innocence and blessedness.
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The rugged trees are mingling Their flowery sprays in love The ivy climbs the laurel To clasp the boughs above.
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It is said to be the manner of hypochondriacs to change often their physician.
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The sad and solemn night hath yet her multitude of cheerful fires The glorious host of light walk the dark hemisphere till she retires All through her silent watches, gliding slow, Her constellations come, and climb the heavens, and go.
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The rose that lives its little hour Is prized beyone the sculpted flower.
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Do not the bright June roses blow To meet thy kiss at morning hours?
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Difficulty is the nurse of greatness.
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The victory of endurance born.
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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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And the blue gentian-flower, that, in the breeze, Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.
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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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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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Maidens hearts are always soft: Would that men's were truer!
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But Winter has yet brighter scenes-he boasts Splendors beyond what gorgeous Summer knows Or Autumn with his many fruits, and woods All flushed with many hues.
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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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Gently - so have good men taught - Gently, and without grief, the old shall glide Into the new the eternal flow of things, Like a bright river of the fields of heaven, Shall journey onward in perpetual peace.
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Alas! to seize the moment When the heart inclines to heart, And press a suit with passion, Is not a woman's part. If man come not to gather The roses where they stand, They fade among their foliage, They cannot seek his hand.
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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.
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