William Cullen Bryant

The moon is at her full, and riding high,
Floods the calm fields with light.
The airs read more

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 to-night.

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.

When April winds
Grew soft, the maple burst into a flush
Of scarlet flowers. The tulip tree, read more

When April winds
Grew soft, the maple burst into a flush
Of scarlet flowers. The tulip tree, high up,
Opened in airs of June her multiple
OF golden chalices to humming birds
And silken-wing'd insects of the sky.

Go forth under the open sky, and list
To Nature's teachings.

Go forth under the open sky, and list
To Nature's teachings.

Thou blossom! bright with autumn dew,
And colour's with the heaven's own blue,
That openest when the read more

Thou blossom! bright with autumn dew,
And colour's with the heaven's own blue,
That openest when the quiet light
Succeeds the keen and frosty night.