Showing posts with label William Cullen Bryant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label William Cullen Bryant. Show all posts
William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878)
William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878)
William Cullen Bryant (November 3, 1794 – June 12, 1878) was an American romantic poet, journalist, and long-time editor of the New York Evening Post.
Quotes·Quotations by William Cullen Bryant
August
¶ The August cloud * * * suddenly
Melts into streams of rain.
[Sella]
March
@ The stormy March has come at last,
With winds and clouds and changing skies;
I hear the rushing of the blast
That through the snowy valley flies.
[March. Reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)]
Summer
¶ The summer morn is bright and fresh, the birds are darting by,
As if they loved to breast the breeze that sweeps the cool clear sky.
[The Strange Lady, st. 6 (1835)]
***
@ Vainly the fowler's eye
Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong,
As, darkly painted on the crimson sky,
Thy figure floats along.
[To a Waterfowl, st. 2 (1815).]
@ 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 multitude
Of golden chalices to humming-birds
And silken-wing'd insects of the sky.
[The Fountain, st. 3 (1839)]
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Cullen_Bryant
http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/William_Cullen_Bryant
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