William Cullen Bryant

To him who in the love of Nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A read more

To him who in the love of Nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language.

And the blue gentian-flower, that, in the breeze,
Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.

And the blue gentian-flower, that, in the breeze,
Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.

I worship the quicksand he walks in.

I worship the quicksand he walks in.

That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,
Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste,--
Are but read more

That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,
Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste,--
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man.

The fiercest agonies have shortest reign;
And after dreams of horror, comes again
The welcome morning with read more

The fiercest agonies have shortest reign;
And after dreams of horror, comes again
The welcome morning with its rays of peace.