Maxioms by 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.
No trumpet-blast profound
The hour in which the Prince of Peace was born;
No bloody streamlet stained
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No trumpet-blast profound
The hour in which the Prince of Peace was born;
No bloody streamlet stained
Earth's silver rivers on the sacred morn.
Wild was the day; the wintry sea
Moaned sadly on New England's strand,
When first the thoughtful read more
Wild was the day; the wintry sea
Moaned sadly on New England's strand,
When first the thoughtful and the free,
Our fathers, trod the desert land.
The groves were God's first temple. Ere man learned
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave,
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The groves were God's first temple. Ere man learned
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave,
And spread the roof above them,--ere he framed
The lofty vault, to gather and roll back
The sound of anthems; in the darkling wood,
Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down
And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks
And supplication.
