William Cullen Bryant - Woods Quotes

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Or lose thyself in the continuous woods
Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound
Saving his own dashings.

William Cullen Bryant

The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere.

William Cullen Bryant

Ere, in the northern gale,
The summer tresses of the trees are gone,
The woods of Autumn, all around our vale,
Have put their glory on.

William Cullen Bryant

The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore,
And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.

William Cullen Bryant

But Winter has yet brighter scenes-he boasts
Splendors beyond what gorgeous Summer knows;
Or Autumn with his many fruits, and woods
All flushed with many hues.

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

Showers and sunshine bring,
Slowly, the deepening verdure o'er the earth;
To put their foliage out, the woods are slack,
And one by one the singing-birds come back.

William Cullen Bryant