The words of fire that from his penWere flung upon the fervid page,Still move, still shake the hearts of men,Amid a cold and coward age.

William Cullen Bryant

William Cullen Bryant

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And wrath has left its scar -- that fire of hell
Has left its frightful scar upon my soul.

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The birch-bark canoe of the savage seems to me one of the most beautiful and perfect things of the kind constructed by human art.

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And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief;

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Truth gets well if she is run over by a locomotive, while error dies of lockjaw if she scratches her finger

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So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers.

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