William Cullen Bryant Quotes

The groves were God's first temples.

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.

Maidens hearts are always soft:
Would that men's were truer!

Heed not the night; a summer lodge amid the wild is mine -
'Tis shadowed by the tulip-tree, 'tis mantled by the vine.

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.

But ’neath yon crimson tree
Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame,
Nor mark, within its roseate canopy, Her blush of maiden shame.

To him who in the love of Nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language.

And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief,
And the year smiles as it draws near its death.

Thou unrelenting Past!
Strong are the barriers round thy dark domain,
And fetters, sure and fast,
Hold all that enter thy unbreathing reign.

The rugged trees are mingling
Their flowery sprays in love;
The ivy climbs the laurel
To clasp the boughs above.