William Cullen Bryant

I worship the quicksand he walks in.

I worship the quicksand he walks in.

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.

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.

Pain dies quickly, and lets her weary prisoners go; the fiercest agonies have shortest reign.

Pain dies quickly, and lets her weary prisoners go; the fiercest agonies have shortest reign.

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.