01c. 1836 ADHere 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 / quote ↗
02c. 1836 ADTo him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language.William Cullen Bryant / quote ↗
03c. 1836 ADGo forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings.William Cullen Bryant / quote ↗
06c. 1836 ADAll that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.William Cullen Bryant / quote ↗
07c. 1836 ADSo live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan which moves To that mysterious realm where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one that wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.William Cullen Bryant / quote ↗
09c. 1836 ADThe 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 / quote ↗
10c. 1836 ADBut 'neath yon crimson tree Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame, Nor mark, within its roseate canopy, Her blush of maiden shame.William Cullen Bryant / quote ↗
11c. 1836 ADThe melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.William Cullen Bryant / quote ↗
12c. 1836 ADAnd sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.William Cullen Bryant / quote ↗
13c. 1836 ADLoveliest 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 / quote ↗
15c. 1836 ADTruth crushed to earth shall rise again,— The eternal years of God are hers; But Error, wounded, writhes with pain, And dies among his worshippers.William Cullen Bryant / quote ↗
16c. 1836 ADBreezes of the South! Who toss the golden and the flame-like flowers, And pass the prairie-hawk that, poised on high, Flaps his broad wings, yet moves not—ye have played Among the palms of Mexico and vines Of Texas, and have crisped the limpid brooks That from the fountains of Sonora glide Into the calm Pacific—have ye fanned A nobler or a lovelier scene than this?William Cullen Bryant / quote ↗
17c. 1836 ADA silvery brook comes stealing From the shadow of its trees, Where slender herbs of the forest stoop Before the entering breeze.William Cullen Bryant / quote ↗
19c. 1836 ADOh, FREEDOM! thou art not, as poets dream, A fair young girl, with light and delicate limbs, And wavy tresses gushing from the cap With which the Roman master crowned his slave When he took off the gyves. A bearded man, Armed to the teeth, art thou; one mailèd hand Grasps the broad shield, and one the sword; thy brow, Glorious in beauty though it be, is scarred With tokens of old wars.William Cullen Bryant / quote ↗
20c. 1836 ADThe stormy March is come at last, With wind, and clouds, and changing skies; I hear the rushing of the blast, That through the snowy valleys flies.William Cullen Bryant / quote ↗
21c. 1836 ADThe sweet calm sunshine of October, now Warms the low spot; upon its grassy mould The purple oak-leaf falls; the birchen bough Drops its bright spoil like arrow-heads of gold.William Cullen Bryant / quote ↗
22c. 1836 ADA sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty.William Cullen Bryant / quote ↗
24c. 1836 ADIt 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 / quote ↗
