William Cullen Bryant quotes

William Cullen Bryant was an American poet, journalist, and editor, renowned for his nature-inspired poetry and influential role in American literature. His work often reflected a deep appreciation for the natural world and the ideals of democracy. He helped shape American literary culture and supported many important social reforms. Here are 59 of his quotes:

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.

William Cullen Bryant

Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings.

William Cullen Bryant

All that tread, the globe are but a handful to the tribes, that slumber in its bosom.

William Cullen Bryant

To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language.

William Cullen Bryant

The little windflower, whose just opened eye is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at.

William Cullen Bryant

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.

William Cullen Bryant

And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, and the year smiles as it draws near its death.

William Cullen Bryant

The groves were God's first temples.

William Cullen Bryant

Weep not that the world changes - did it keep a stable, changeless state, it were cause indeed to weep.

William Cullen Bryant

Heed not the night; a summer lodge amid the wild is mine - 'Tis shadowed by the tulip-tree, 'tis mantled by the vine.

William Cullen Bryant

Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste.

William Cullen Bryant

A herd of prairie-wolves will enter a field of melons and quarrel about the division of the spoils as fiercely and noisily as so many politicians.

William Cullen Bryant

All things that are on earth shall wholly pass away, Except the love of God, which shall live and last for aye.

William Cullen Bryant

The victory of endurance born.

William Cullen Bryant

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 who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

William Cullen Bryant

Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again; The eternal years of God are hers; But Error, wounded, writhes with pain, And dies among his worshippers.

William Cullen Bryant

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

The summer morn is bright and fresh, the birds are darting by, As if they loved to breast the breeze that sweeps the cool clear sky.

William Cullen Bryant

And the blue gentian flower, that, in the breeze, Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.

William Cullen Bryant

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.

William Cullen Bryant

The rugged trees are mingling Their flowery sprays in love; The ivy climbs the laurel To clasp the boughs above.

William Cullen Bryant

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 tonight.

William Cullen Bryant