William Cullen Bryant ( 10 of 52 )
Here the free spirit of mankind, at length,
Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place
read more
Here the free spirit of mankind, at length,
Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place
A limit to the giant's unchained strength,
Or curb his swiftness in the forward race?
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.
The linden, in the fervors of July,
Hums with a louder concert. When the wind
Sweeps the read more
The linden, in the fervors of July,
Hums with a louder concert. When the wind
Sweeps the broad forest in its summer prime,
As when some master-hand exulting sweeps
The keys of some great organ, ye give forth
The music of the woodland depths, a hymn
Of gladness and of thanks.
I gazed upon the glorious sky
And the green mountains round,
And thought that when I came read more
I gazed upon the glorious sky
And the green mountains round,
And thought that when I came to lie
At rest within the ground,
'Twere pleasant, that in flowery June
When brooks send up a cheerful tune,
And groves a joyous sound,
The sexton's hand, my grave to make,
The rich, green mountain-turf should break.
Where hast thou wandered. gentle gale, to find
The perfumes thou dost bring?
Where hast thou wandered. gentle gale, to find
The perfumes thou dost bring?
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.
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.
Thine eyes are springs in whose serene
And silent waters heaven is seen.
Their lashes are the read more
Thine eyes are springs in whose serene
And silent waters heaven is seen.
Their lashes are the herbs that look
On their young figures in the brook.
Where fall the tears of love the rose appears,
And where the ground is bright with friendship's tears,
read more
Where fall the tears of love the rose appears,
And where the ground is bright with friendship's tears,
Forget-me-not, and violets, heavenly blue,
Spring glittering with the cheerful drops like dew.
