William C. Bryant
William C. Bryant
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth3 November 1794
CountryUnited States of America
lying dark air
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!
taste moral journalism
The journalist should be on his guard against publishing what is false in taste or exceptionable in morals.
guilt misery pale
God hath yoked to guilt her pale tormentor,--misery.
ivy tree mingling
The rugged trees are mingling Their flowery sprays in love; The ivy climbs the laurel To clasp the boughs above.
beautiful art perfect
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.
fields division politician
A herd of prairie-wolves will enter a field of melons and quarrel about the division of the spoils as fiercely and noisily as so many politicians.
father hands rose
Father, thy hand Hath reared these venerable columns, thou Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun, Budded, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze, And shot towards heaven.
sunshine bud february
The February sunshine steeps your boughs and tints the buds and swells the leaves within.
sister flower light
Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?
memorial-day land forget
Ah! never shall the land forget.
memorial-day blood land
Ah! never shall the land forget How gushed the life-blood of her brave -
grieving promise
I grieve for life's bright promise, just shown and then withdrawn.
struggle fate aimless-life
These struggling tides of life that seem In wayward, aimless course to tend, Are eddies of the mighty stream That rolls to its appointed end.
tyrants reign yoke
Virtue cannot dwell with slaves, nor reign O'er those who cower to take a tyrant's yoke.