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• The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.
  -- William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878) -- The Death of the Flowe...
• Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste. -- William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878) -- Thanatopsi
• The hills, Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun.
  -- William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878) -- Thanatopsi...
• The victory of endurance born. -- William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878) -- The Battle-Field
• Whose house is this? What street are we in? Why did you bring me here?
  --William Cullen Bryant, poet, 1794-1878...
• All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.
  -- William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878) -- Thanatopsi...
• Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings.
  -- William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878) -- Thanatopsi...
• The groves were God's first temples. -- William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878) -- A Forest Hym
• Weep not that the world changes -- did it keep a stable, changeless state, it were cause indeed to weep.
  -- William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878)...