William C. Bryant

Eloquence is the poetry of prose. ↗

— William C. Bryant

#poetry #prose

Loveliest of lovely things are they on earth that soonest pass away. The rose that lives its little hour is prized beyond the sculptured flower. ↗

— William C. Bryant

#beyond #earth #flower #hour #little

Pain dies quickly, and lets her weary prisoners go; the fiercest agonies have shortest reign. ↗

— William C. Bryant

#fiercest #go #her #lets #pain

Poetry is that art which selects and arranges the symbols of thought in such a manner as to excite the imagination the most powerfully and delightfully. ↗

— William C. Bryant

#art #delightfully #excite #imagination #manner

Remorse is virtue's root; its fair increase are fruits of innocence and blessedness. ↗

— William C. Bryant

#fair #fruits #increase #innocence #remorse

The groves were God's first temples. ↗

— William C. Bryant

#first #god #groves #temples #were

The little windflower, whose just opened eye is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at. ↗

— William C. Bryant

#eye #gazes #heaven #just #little

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 tonight. ↗

— William C. Bryant

#asleep #calm #fields #floods #full

There is no glory in star or blossom till looked upon by a loving eye; There is no fragrance in April breezes till breathed with joy as they wander by. ↗

— William C. Bryant

#blossom #breathed #breezes #eye #fragrance

To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language. ↗

— William C. Bryant

#forms #her #him #holds #language