William Cullen Bryant

Reach for the moon, because if you don't make it you'll land among the stars.

Reach for the moon, because if you don't make it you'll land among the stars.

A sculptor wields
The chisel, and the stricken marble grows
To beauty.

A sculptor wields
The chisel, and the stricken marble grows
To beauty.

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.

And at my silent window-sill
The jessamine peeps in.

And at my silent window-sill
The jessamine peeps in.

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.