More from William Cullen Bryant

  1. The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore, And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.
  2. These are the gardens of the Desert, these The unshorn fields, boundless and beautiful, For which the speech of England has no name- The Pr…
  3. The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere.
  4. 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.
  5. Thou unrelenting Past! Strong are the barriers round thy dark domain, And fetters, sure and fast, Hold all that enter thy unbreathing reign.
  6. Heed not the night; a summer lodge amid the wild is mine - 'Tis shadowed by the tulip-tree, 'tis mantled by the vine.
  7. Loveliest of lovely things are they, On earth, that soonest pass away. The rose that lives its little hour Is prized beyond the sculptured …
  8. 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 …

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