“Your peaks are beautiful, ye Apennines! In the soft light of these serenest skies; From the broad highland region, black with pines, Fair as the hills of Paradise they rise, Bathed in the tint Peruvian slaves behold In rosy flushes on the virgin gold.” LightBeautifulBlackSkyFairsGoldSlaveHillsParadiseRegionsBroadsVirginsRosyPeruvians Author:William C. Bryant
“Lo! while we are gazing, in swifter haste Stream down the snows, till the air is white, As, myriads by myriads madly chased, They fling themselves from their shadowy height. The fair, frail creatures of middle sky, What speed they make, with their grave so nigh; Flake after flake, To lie in the dark and silent lake!” LyingDarkWhiteAirSkyMiddleCreaturesFairsSilentSpeedGravesSnowHeightStreamsLakesHasteFrailFlingGazingFlakes Author:William C. Bryant
“Oh, Constellations of the early night That sparkled brighter as the twilight died, And made the darkness glorious! I have seen Your rays grow dim upon the horizon's edge And sink behind the mountains. I have seen The great Orion, with his jewelled belt, That large-limbed warrior of the skies, go down Into the gloom. Beside him sank a crowd Of shining ones.” MadeNightStarsGrowsBehindsDarknessSkyMountainDiedShiningEdgesCrowdsWarriorGloriousHorizonRaysTwilightBeltsBrighterGloomConstellationsOrion Author:William C. Bryant
“Beautiful isles! beneath the sunset skies tall, silver-shafted palm-trees rise, between full orange-trees that shade the living colonade.” BeautifulTreeSkySunsetSilverTallShadeOrangePalmsIslePalm TreesOrange Trees Author:William C. Bryant
“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.” LastsSkyWindCloudsMarchValleysBlastRushingStormySnowy Author:William C. Bryant
“Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings.” NatureSkyTeachingLists Author:William C. Bryant
“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.” ShouldHandsLyingSoundBreakRichSkyMountainSpringGreenRoundsGravesPleasantGloriousTunesCheerfulJuneJoyousBrooksGroveTurf Author:William C. Bryant
“The country ever has a lagging Spring, Waiting for May to call its violets forth, And June its roses-showers and sunshine bring, Slowly, the deepening verdure o'er the earth; To put their foliage out, the woods are slack, And one by one the singing-birds come back. Within the city's bounds the time of flowers Comes earlier. Let a mild and sunny day, Such as full often, for a few bright hours, Breathes through the sky of March the airs of May, Shine on our roofs and chase the wintry gloom- And lo! our borders glow with sudden bloom.” MayCountryEarthWaitingHoursCitiesAirSkyFlowerSpringSingingBirdShiningRoseBoundsWoodsBreatheBordersSunshineMarchRoofShowersVioletJuneSunnyGloomShine OnSunny DayFoliageSinging Birds Author:William C. Bryant
“The moon is at her full, and riding high, Floods the calm fields with light. The airs that hover in the summer sky Are all asleep to-night.” LightNightAirSkyFieldsMoonSummerCalmRidingFloodAugustFull MoonMoon NightHalf Moon Author:William C. Bryant
“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.” IfsClearSkySummerBirdBreastsBreezeJuneJulyClear Skies Author:William C. Bryant
“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.” AirTreeSkyWindFlowerGrewBirdWingsGoldenMultipleInsectsJuneAprilScarletHummingMapleChalice Author:William C. Bryant
“The summer day is closed - the sun is set: Well they have done their office, those bright hours, The latest of whose train goes softly out In the red west. The green blade of the ground Has risen, and herds have cropped it; the young twig Has spread its plaited tissues to the sun; Flowers of the garden and the waste have blown And withered; seeds have fallen upon the soil, From bursting cells, and in their graves await Their resurrection. Insects from the pools Have filled the air awhile with humming wings, That now are still for ever; painted moths Have wandered the blue sky, and died again” WellsStillsDoneYoungHoursSunAirSkyFlowerOfficeWasteSummerRedGardenDiedBlueGreenFilledWingsTrainWestSpreadSeedsGravesCellsFallenSoilPoolResurrectionInsectsBladesHerdsRisenTissuesBlue SkyBurstingMothsWitheredHummingTwigsSummer Days Author:William C. Bryant
