William Cullen Bryant

The February sunshine steeps your boughs
And tints the buds and swells the leaves within.

The February sunshine steeps your boughs
And tints the buds and swells the leaves within.

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.

The groves were God's first temples.

The groves were God's first temples.

And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief,
And the year smiles as it draws near its read more

And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief,
And the year smiles as it draws near its death.

What plant we in this apple tree?
Sweets for a hundred flowery springs
To load the May-wind's read more

What plant we in this apple tree?
Sweets for a hundred flowery springs
To load the May-wind's restless wings,
When, from the orchard-row, he pours
Its fragrance through our open doors;
A world of blossoms for the bee,
Flowers for the sick girl's silent room,
For the glad infant sprigs of bloom,
We plant with the apple tree.