America (William Cullen Bryant Poems)
OH mother of a mighty race,Yet lovely in thy youthful grace!The elder dames, thy haughty peers,Admire and hate thy blooming ...
OH mother of a mighty race,Yet lovely in thy youthful grace!The elder dames, thy haughty peers,Admire and hate thy blooming ...
When beechen buds begin to swell, And woods the blue-bird's warble know, The yellow violet's modest bell Peeps from last-year's ...
To him who in the love of nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language; for ...
The country ever has a lagging Spring, Waiting for May to call its violets forth, And June its roses--showers and ...
Ay, thou art for the grave; thy glances shine Too brightly to shine long; another Spring Shall deck her for ...
The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, And spread the ...
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