William Cullen Bryant quotes - page 2

Here the free spirit of mankind, at length, Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place A limit to the giant's unchained strength, Or curb his swiftness in the forward race! (William Cullen Bryant)
There is a day of sunny rest For every dark and troubled night; And a grief may bid, and evening guest, Bot joy shall come with early light. View quote
William Cullen Bryant
Difficulty, my brethren, is the nurse of greatness - a harsh nurse, who roughly rocks her foster - children into strength and athletic proportion. View quote
William Cullen Bryant
The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere. View quote
William Cullen Bryant
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. View quote
William Cullen Bryant
Maidens hearts are always soft: Would that men's were truer! View quote
William Cullen Bryant
Wild was the day; the wintry sea Moaned sadly on New England's strand, When first the thoughtful and the free, Our fathers, trod the desert land. View quote
William Cullen Bryant
Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along. View quote
William Cullen Bryant
Nothing can be more striking to one who is accustomed to the little inclosures called public parks in our American cities, than the spacious, open grounds of London. I doubt, in fact, whether any person fully comprehends their extent, from any of the ordinary descriptions of them, until he has seen them or tried to walk over them. View quote
William Cullen Bryant
The hills, Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun. View quote
William Cullen Bryant
The stormy March has come at last, With winds and clouds and changing skies; I hear the rushing of the blast That through the snowy valley flies. (William Cullen Bryant)
Oh, sun! that o'er the western mountains now Goest down in glory! ever beautiful And blessed is thy radiance, whether thou Colourest the eastern heaven and night-mist cool, Till the bright day-star vanish, or on high Climbest and streamest thy white splendours from mid-sky. View quote
William Cullen Bryant
Thou unrelenting Past! Strong are the barriers round thy dark domain, And fetters, sure and fast, Hold all that enter thy unbreathing reign. View quote
William Cullen Bryant
They talk of short-lived pleasures-be it so- pain dies as quickly: stern, hard-featured pain Expires, and lets her weary prisoner go. The fiercest agonies have shortest reign; And after dreams of horror, comes again The welcome morning with its rays of peace. View quote
William Cullen Bryant
The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore, And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more. View quote
William Cullen Bryant
These are the gardens of the Desert, these The unshorn fields, boundless and beautiful, For which the speech of England has no name- The Prairies. View quote
William Cullen Bryant
He who, from zone to zone, Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone, Will lead my steps aright. View quote
William Cullen Bryant
A sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty. View quote
William Cullen Bryant
A stable, changeless state, 'twere cause indeed to weep. View quote
William Cullen Bryant
Pain dies quickly, and lets her weary prisoners go; the fiercest agonies have shortest reign. View quote
William Cullen Bryant
The February sunshine steeps your boughs and tints the buds and swells the leaves within. (William Cullen Bryant)
Poetry is that art which selects and arranges the symbols of thought in such a manner as to excite the imagination the most powerfully and delightfully. View quote
William Cullen Bryant
Truth gets well if she is run over by a locomotive, while error dies of lockjaw if she scratches her finger. View quote
William Cullen Bryant
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. View quote
William Cullen Bryant
Eloquence is the poetry of prose. View quote
William Cullen Bryant