William Cullen Bryant

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.

The daffodil is our doorside queen;
She pushes upward the sword already,
To spot with sunshine the read more

The daffodil is our doorside queen;
She pushes upward the sword already,
To spot with sunshine the early green.

The moon is at her full, and riding high,
Floods the calm fields with light.
The airs read more

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.

Look! the massy trunks
Are cased in the pure crystal; each light spray,
Nodding and tinkling in read more

Look! the massy trunks
Are cased in the pure crystal; each light spray,
Nodding and tinkling in the breath of heaven,
Is studded with its trembling water-drops,
That glimmer with an amethystine light.

A sculptor wields
The chisel, and the stricken marble grows
To beauty.

A sculptor wields
The chisel, and the stricken marble grows
To beauty.