Maxioms by William Cullen Bryant
That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,
Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste,--
Are but read more
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.
When April winds
Grew soft, the maple burst into a flush
Of scarlet flowers. The tulip tree, read more
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 multiple
OF golden chalices to humming birds
And silken-wing'd insects of the sky.
The February sunshine steeps your boughs
And tints the buds and swells the leaves within.
The February sunshine steeps your boughs
And tints the buds and swells the leaves within.
I worship the quicksand he walks in.
I worship the quicksand he walks in.
A sculptor wields
The chisel, and the stricken marble grows
To beauty.
A sculptor wields
The chisel, and the stricken marble grows
To beauty.
