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• Truth crushed to earth shall rise again,-- The eternal years of God are he
  But Error, wounded, writhes with pain, And dies among his worshippers....
• But 'neath yon crimson tree Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame, Nor mark, within its roseate canopy, Her blush of maiden shame.
  -- William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878) -- Autumn Wood...
• Whose house is this? What street are we in? Why did you bring me here?
  --William Cullen Bryant, poet, 1794-1878...
• All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.
  -- William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878) -- Thanatopsi...
• Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste. -- William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878) -- Thanatopsi
• The hills, Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun.
  -- William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878) -- Thanatopsi...
• The victory of endurance born. -- William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878) -- The Battle-Field
• To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language.
  -- William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878) -- Thanatopsi...
• The stormy March has come at last, With winds and clouds and changing skie
  I hear the rushing of the blast That through the snowy valley flies....