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The hushed winds their Sabbath keep.
William C. Bryant
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William C. Bryant
Sabbath
Winds
Wind
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Hushed
More quotes by William C. Bryant
It is said to be the manner of hypochondriacs to change often their physician.
William C. Bryant
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
And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief.
William C. Bryant
He [William Henry Harrison] did not live long enough to prove his incapacity for the office of President.
William C. Bryant
All great poets have been men of great knowledge.
William C. Bryant
Self-interest is the most ingenious and persuasive of all the agents that deceive our consciences, while by means of it our unhappy and stubborn prejudices operate in their greatest force.
William C. Bryant
Remorse is virtue's root its fair increase is fruits of innocence and blessedness.
William C. Bryant
Error's monstrous shapes from earth are driven They fade, they fly--but truth survives the flight.
William C. Bryant
And at my silent window-sill The jessamine peeps in.
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
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
Poetry is the eloquence of verse.
William C. Bryant
I hear the howl of the wind that brings The long drear storm on its heavy wings.
William C. Bryant
It is a sultry day the sun has drunk The dew that lay upon the morning grass There is no rustling in the lofty elm That canopies my dwelling, and its shade Scarce cools me. All is silent, save the faint And interrupted murmur of the bee, Settling on the sick flowers, And then again Instantly on the wing.
William C. Bryant
Hark to that shrill, sudden shout, The cry of an applauding multitude, Swayed by some loud-voiced orator who wields The living mass as if he were its soul!
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
Pain dies quickly, and lets her weary prisoners go the fiercest agonies have shortest reign.
William C. Bryant
The little wind-flower, whose just opened eye Is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at.
William C. Bryant
The press, important as is its office, is but the servant of the human intellect, and its ministry is for good or for evil, according to the character of those who direct it. The press is a mill which grinds all that is put into its hopper. Fill the hopper with poisoned grain, and it will grind it to meal, but there is death in the bread.
William C. Bryant
Difficulty is the nurse of greatness.
William C. Bryant
