Autumn Quote by William C. Bryant Download Open image “Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson.” — William C. Bryant ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 3.9 out of 5 (9 ratings) Copy quoteShare Autumn Crimson Fall Fall autumn Glorious Gold Summer to fall Woods
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… — William C. Bryant Copy Share Image
Catch a vista of maples in that long light and you see Autumn glowing through the leaves… The promise of gold and crimson is… — Hal Borland Copy Share Image
I know the lands are lit, with all the autumn blaze of Goldenrod. — Helen Hunt Jackson Copy Share Image
For in the true nature of things, if we rightly consider, every green tree is far more glorious than if it were made of… — Martin Luther Copy Share Image
Ere, in the northern gale, The summer tresses of the trees are gone, The woods of Autumn, all around our vale, Have put their… — William C. Bryant Copy Share Image
Far over the misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old We must away ere break of day To seek the pale enchanted… — JRR Tolkien Copy Share Image
Far over the misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old We must away, ere break of day, To claim our long-forgotten gold. — JRR Tolkien Copy Share Image
I saw them; there is nothing beautiful about them, just that they are a little higher than the others. Referring to one of the… — Ronald Reagan Copy Share Image
The February sunshine steeps your boughs and tints the buds and swells the leaves within. — William C. Bryant Copy Share Image
Lo! while we are gazing, in swifter haste Stream down the snows, till the air is white, As, myriads by myriads madly chased, They… — William C. Bryant Copy Share Image
Sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down… — William C. Bryant Copy Share Image
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… — William C. Bryant Copy Share Image
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 C. Bryant Copy Share
And the blue gentian-flower, that, in the breeze, Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last. — William C. Bryant Copy Share Image
A silence, the brief Sabbath of an hour, Reigns o'er the fields; the laborer sits within His dwelling; he has left his steers awhile, Unyoked, to bite the herbage, and his dog Sleeps stretched beside the door-stone in the shade. Now the gray marmot, with uplifted paws, No more sits listening by his den, but steals Abroad, in safety, to… — William C. Bryant Copy Share
The rugged trees are mingling Their flowery sprays in love; The ivy climbs the laurel To clasp the boughs above. — William C. Bryant Copy Share Image
This, at last, was where things were as they ought to be. Everything was in its place -- the tree, the earth underneath, the rock, the moss. In autumn, it would be right; in winter under the snow, it would be perfect in its wintriness. Spring would come again and miracle within miracle would unfold, each at its special pace,… — Jean Liedloff Copy Share
The American spring is by no means so agreeable as the American autumn; both move with faltering step, and slow; but this lingering pace,… — Frances Trollope Copy Share Image
“Flowers that had bloomed brilliant from spring through autumn blackened under the killing frost.” — Nora Roberts Copy Share Image
“FALL I've never liked orange not even a hint of yellow though that doesn't mean I'm derange, you know. but it's still a riddle… — Kynna Claire Copy Share Image
The trees change their voices in autumn as well as their shapes. No longer do they whisper to one another in muffled tones as they did in summer; they talk in a different leaf-language now. The wind moves through the boughs like fingers drawn across the strings of a harp filling the air with the harsh dry sound of sapless… — Patience Strong Copy Share
You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles… — Pablo Neruda Copy Share
“The crickets felt it was their duty to warn everybody that summertime cannot last for ever. Even on the most beautiful days in the… — Anonymous Copy Share Image
He found himself wondering at times, especially in the autumn, about the wild lands, and strange visions of mountains that he had never seen… — Anonymous Copy Share Image
“Easter blessings All life’s sacrifices like autumn leaves awaken our senses and power to love and be whole Our Mother Earth, Our Father Sky… — Ramon Ravenswood Copy Share Image
The lush green of the fields became a rich gold that swayed sturdily under the wind and fell at last before the hands of… — Martha Ostenso Copy Share Image
The ascent of any route begins, in dreams at least, the autumn before. Our minds ring, involuntarily, with the alluring names of mountains, aiguilles, faces and ridges, Is it the name itself which is so tempting, or the picture we have of the mountain itself, or does the appeal come from our feeling of the actual process of climbing? All… — Gaston Rebuffat Copy Share
