Difficulty, my brethren, is the nurse of greatness – a harsh nurse, who roughly rocks her foster – children into strength and athletic proportion. – William C. Bryant
All that tread, the globe are but a handful to the tribes, that slumber in its bosom. – William C. Bryant
Thine eyes are springs in whose serene And silent waters heaven is seen. Their lashes are the herbs that look On their young figures in the brook. – William C. Bryant
There is no glory in star or blossom till looked upon by a loving eye; There is no fragrance in April breezes till breathed with joy as they wander by. – William C. Bryant
The moon is at her full, and riding high, Floods the calm fields with light. The airs that hover in the summer sky Are all asleep tonight. – William C. Bryant
Truth gets well if she is run over by a locomotive, while error dies of lockjaw if she scratches her finger. – William C. Bryant
The little windflower, whose just opened eye is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at. – William C. Bryant
Loveliest 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 C. Bryant
Pain dies quickly, and lets her weary prisoners go; the fiercest agonies have shortest reign. – William C. Bryant
The February sunshine steeps your boughs and tints the buds and swells the leaves within. – William C. Bryant
And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, and the year smiles as it draws near its death. – William C. Bryant
To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language. – William C. Bryant
Weep not that the world changes – did it keep a stable, changeless state, it were cause indeed to weep. – 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