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Winning isn't everything, but it beats anything in second place.
William Cullen Bryant
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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
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The breath of springtime at this twilight hour Comes through the gathering glooms, And bears the stolen sweets of many a flower Into my silent rooms.
William Cullen Bryant
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The little wind-flower, whose just opened eye Is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at.
William Cullen Bryant
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Look on this beautiful world, and read the truth in her fair page.
William Cullen Bryant
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Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson, Yet our full-leaved willows are in the freshest green. Such a kindly autumn, so mercifully dealing With the growths of summer, I never yet have seen.
William Cullen Bryant
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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.
William Cullen Bryant
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The hushed winds their Sabbath keep.
William Cullen Bryant
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Thine eyes are springs in whose serene And silent waters heaven is seen. Their lashes are the herbs that look On their young figures in the brook.
William Cullen Bryant
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He [William Henry Harrison] did not live long enough to prove his incapacity for the office of President.
William Cullen Bryant
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Ah, never shall the land forget How gush'd the life-blood of the brave, Gush'd warm with hope and courage yet, Upon the soil they fought to save!
William Cullen Bryant
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The gentle race of flowers Are lying in their lowly beds.
William Cullen Bryant
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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 Cullen Bryant
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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 Cullen Bryant
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Pain dies quickly, and lets her weary prisoners go; the fiercest agonies have shortest reign.
William Cullen Bryant
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All great poets have been men of great knowledge.
William Cullen Bryant
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The rose that lives its little hour Is prized beyone the sculpted flower.
William Cullen Bryant
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Much has seen said of the wisdom of old age. Old age is wise, I grant, for itself, but not wise for the community. It is wise in declining new enterprises, for it has not the power nor the time to execute them; wise in shrinking from difficulty, for it has not the strength to overcome it; wise in avoiding danger, for it lacks the faculty of ready and swift action, by which dangers are parried and converted into advantages. But this is not wisdom for mankind at large, by whom new enterprises must be undertaken, dangers met, and difficulties surmounted.
William Cullen Bryant
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Error's monstrous shapes from earth are driven They fade, they fly--but truth survives the flight.
William Cullen Bryant
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The journalist should be on his guard against publishing what is false in taste or exceptionable in morals.
William Cullen Bryant
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The sweet calm sunshine of October, now Warms the low spot; upon its grassy mold The pur0ple oak-leaf falls; the birchen bough drops its bright spoil like arrow-heads of gold.
William Cullen Bryant
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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.
William Cullen Bryant
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Stand here by my side and turn, I pray, On the lake below thy gentle eyes; The clouds hang over it, heavy and gray, And dark and silent the water lies; And out of that frozen mist the snow In wavering flakes begins to flow; Flake after flake, They sink in the dark and silent lake.
William Cullen Bryant
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The February sunshine steeps your boughs and tints the buds and swells the leaves within.
William Cullen Bryant
