Unknown
William C. Bryant
The groves were God's first temples.
William C. Bryant
The fiercest agonies have shortest reign; And after dreams of horror, comes again The welcome morning with its rays of peace.
William C. Bryant
The February sunshine steeps your boughs and tints the buds and swells the leaves within.
William C. Bryant
The daffodil is our doorside queen; she pushes upward the sword already, To spot with sunshine the early green.
William C. Bryant
That rolls to its appointed end.
William C. Bryant
Remorse is virtue's root; its fair increase are fruits of innocence and blessedness.
William C. 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.
William C. Bryant
Pain dies quickly, and lets her weary prisoners go; the fiercest agonies have shortest reign.
William C. Bryant
No trumpet-blast profound the hour in which the Prince of Peace was born; No bloody streamlet stained Earth's silver rivers on the sacred morn.
William C. Bryant
Modest and shy as a nun is she; One weak chirp is her only note; Braggarts and prince of braggarts is he, Pouring boasts from his little throat.