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The birch-bark canoe of the savage seems to me one of the most beautiful and perfect things of the kind constructed by human art.

William C. Bryant

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William C. Bryant
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Truth gets well if she is run over by a locomotive, while error dies of lockjaw if she scratches her finger.
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And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief.
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That make the meadows green and, poured round all, Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste,-- Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man.
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Remorse is virtue's root its fair increase is fruits of innocence and blessedness.
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The victory of endurance born.
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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!
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Follow thou thy choice.
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The hushed winds their Sabbath keep.
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Ah! never shall the land forget How gushed the life-blood of her brave -
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And kind the voice and glad the eyes That welcome my return at night.
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I shall seeThe hour of death draw near to me,Hope, blossoming within my heart. . . .
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Genius, with all its pride in its own strength, is but a dependent quality, and cannot put forth its whole powers nor claim all its honors without an amount of aid from the talents and labors of others which it is difficult to calculate.
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Maidens hearts are always soft: Would that men's were truer!
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And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, and the year smiles as it draws near its death.
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There is no glory in star or blossom till looked upon by a loving eye There is no fragrance in April breezes till breathed with joy as they wander by.
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