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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 Cullen Bryant -
It is said to be the manner of hypochondriacs to change often their physician.
William Cullen Bryant
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Come when the rains Have glazed the snow and clothed the trees with ice, While the slant sun of February pours Into the bowers a flood of light. Approach! The incrusted surface shall upbear thy steps And the broad arching portals of the grove Welcome thy entering.
William Cullen Bryant -
Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste.
William Cullen Bryant -
Winning isn't everything, but it beats anything in second place.
William Cullen Bryant -
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 Cullen Bryant -
He [William Henry Harrison] did not live long enough to prove his incapacity for the office of President.
William Cullen Bryant -
And the blue gentian-flower, that, in the breeze, Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.
William Cullen Bryant
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The hushed winds their Sabbath keep.
William Cullen Bryant -
Features, the great soul's apparent seat.
William Cullen Bryant -
Ah, passing few are they who speak, Wild, stormy month! in praise of thee; Yet though thy winds are loud and bleak, Thou art a welcome month to me. For thou, to northern lands, again The glad and glorious sun dost bring, And thou hast joined the gentle train And wear'st the gentle name of Spring.
William Cullen Bryant -
Loveliest of lovely things are they, On earth, that soonest pass away. The rose that lives its little hour Is prized beyond the sculptured flower.
William Cullen Bryant -
Error's monstrous shapes from earth are driven They fade, they fly--but truth survives the flight.
William Cullen Bryant -
And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, and the year smiles as it draws near its death.
William Cullen 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 Cullen Bryant -
The February sunshine steeps your boughs and tints the buds and swells the leaves within.
William Cullen Bryant -
Do not the bright June roses blow To meet thy kiss at morning hours?
William Cullen Bryant -
All that tread, the globe are but a handful to the tribes, that slumber in its bosom.
William Cullen Bryant -
Follow thou thy choice.
William Cullen Bryant -
Oh, river! darkling river! what a voice Is that thou utterest while all else is still-- The ancient voice that, centuries ago, Sounded between thy hills, while Rome was yet A weedy solitude by Tiber's stream!
William Cullen Bryant
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Ah! never shall the land forget.
William Cullen Bryant -
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.
William Cullen Bryant -
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 Cullen Bryant -
Thou blossom bright with autumn dew, And colored with the heaven's own blue.
William Cullen Bryant