William Cullen Bryant Quotes
Here the free spirit of mankind, at length,Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place
A limit to the giant's unchained strength,
Or curb his swiftness in the forward race?
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Free | Spirit | Mankind | Length | Throws |
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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.
- William Cullen Bryant
The hills,
Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun, -- the vales
Stretching in pensive quietness between;
The venerable woods -- rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks
That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,
Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste, --
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man. - William Cullen Bryant
Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun, -- the vales
Stretching in pensive quietness between;
The venerable woods -- rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks
That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,
Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste, --
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man. - William Cullen Bryant