William Cullen Bryant Quotes
-
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.
-
Tender pauses speak The overflow of gladness, When words are all too weak.
-
The rugged trees are mingling Their flowery sprays in love; The ivy climbs the laurel To clasp the boughs above.
-
To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language.
-
Ah, why Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore Only among the crowd and under roofs That our frail hands have raised?
-
Poetry is the eloquence of verse.
-
I hear the howl of the wind that brings The long drear storm on its heavy wings.
-
Virtue cannot dwell with slaves, nor reign O'er those who cower to take a tyrant's yoke.
-
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.
-
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.
-
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.
-
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.
-
Still sweet with blossoms is the year's fresh prime.
-
Heed not the night; A summer lodge amid the wild is mine, 'Tis shadowed by the tulip-tree, 'Tis mantled by the vine.
-
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.
-
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.
-
It is said to be the manner of hypochondriacs to change often their physician.
-
Ah! never shall the land forget How gushed the life-blood of her brave -
-
Yet will that beauteous image make The dreary sea less drear And thy remembered smile will wake The hope that tramples fear
-
There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way.
-
Ye winds ye unseen currents of the air, Softly ye played a few brief hours ago; Ye bore the murmuring bee; ye tossed the air O'er maiden cheeks, that took a fresher glow; Ye rolled the round white cloud through depths of blue; Ye shook from shaded flowers the lingering dew; Before you the catalpa's blossoms flew, Light blossoms, dropping on the grass like snow.
-
And the blue gentian-flower, that, in the breeze, Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.
-
Autumn, the year's last, loveliest smile.
-
The right to discuss freely and openly, by speech, by the pen, by the press, all political questions, and to examine the animadvert upon all political institutions is a right so clear and certain, so interwoven with our other liberties, so necessary, in fact, to their existence, that without it we must fall into despotism and anarchy.