William Cullen Bryant

Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay
In the gay woods and in the golden air,
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Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay
In the gay woods and in the golden air,
Like to a good old age released from care,
Journeying, in long serenity, away.
In such a bright, late quiet, would that I
Might wear out life like thee, mid bowers and brooks,
And, dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks,
And music of kind voices ever nigh;
And when my last sand twinkled in the glass,
Pass silently from men as thou dost pass.

Thine eyes are springs in whose serene
And silent waters heaven is seen.
Their lashes are the read more

Thine eyes are springs in whose serene
And silent waters heaven is seen.
Their lashes are the herbs that look
On their young figures in the brook.

I worship the quicksand he walks in.

I worship the quicksand he walks in.

Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson,
Yet our full-leaved willows are in the freshest green.
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Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson,
Yet our full-leaved willows are in the freshest green.
Such a kindly autumn, so mercifully dealing
With the growths of summer, I never yet have seen.

Vainly the fowler's eye
Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong,
As, darkly painted on read more

Vainly the fowler's eye
Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong,
As, darkly painted on the crimson sky,
Thy figure floats along.