Related:

• The victory of endurance born. -- William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878) -- The Battle-Field
• Here the free spirit of mankind, at length, Throws its last fetters off
  and who shall place A limit to the giant's unchained strength, Or curb his swiftness in the forward race?...
• The groves were God's first temples. -- William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878) -- A Forest Hym
• 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...
• 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....
• So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan which moves To that mysterious realm where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death
  Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one that wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams....
• But 'neath yon crimson tree Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame, Nor mark, within its roseate canopy, Her blush of maiden shame.
  -- William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878) -- Autumn Wood...
• Whose house is this? What street are we in? Why did you bring me here?
  --William Cullen Bryant, poet, 1794-1878...