Quote #24
These struggling tides of life that seem In wayward, aimless course to tend, Are eddies of the mighty stream That rolls to its appointed end.
More from William Cullen Bryant
- Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again; The eternal years of God are hers; But Error, wounded, writhes with pain, And dies among his wor…
- And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, And the year smiles as it draws near its death.
- The victory of endurance born.
- The rugged trees are mingling Their flowery sprays in love; The ivy climbs the laurel To clasp the boughs above.
- 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 …
- Wild was the day; the wintry sea Moaned sadly on New England's strand, When first the thoughtful and the free, Our fathers, trod the desert…
- Heed not the night; a summer lodge amid the wild is mine - 'Tis shadowed by the tulip-tree, 'tis mantled by the vine.
- To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language.