William Cullen Bryant

I worship the quicksand he walks in.

I worship the quicksand he walks in.

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

Wild was the day; the wintry sea
Moaned sadly on New England's strand,
When first the thoughtful read more

Wild was the day; the wintry sea
Moaned sadly on New England's strand,
When first the thoughtful and the free,
Our fathers, trod the desert land.

The melancholy days have come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown read more

The melancholy days have come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sear.

Alas! to seize the moment
When the heart inclines to heart,
And press a suit with passion,
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Alas! to seize the moment
When the heart inclines to heart,
And press a suit with passion,
Is not a woman's part.
If man come not to gather
The roses where they stand,
They fade among their foliage,
They cannot seek his hand.