Autumn Quote by William C. Bryant Download Open image “Thou blossom bright with autumn dew, And colored with the heaven's own blue…” — William C. Bryant ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 3.9 out of 5 (3 ratings) Copy quoteShare Autumn Blue Dew Flowers Heaven
Blue thou art, intensely blue; Flower, whence came thy dazzling hue? — James Montgomery Copy Share Image
“Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines, And too often is his gold complexion dimm'd: And every fair from fair sometimes declines, By chance or natures… — William Shakespeare Copy Share
Simplest of blossoms! To mine eye Thou bring'st the summer's painted sky; The May-thorn greening in the nook; The minnows sporting in the brook;… — David Macbeth Moir Copy Share Image
Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray. — Lord Byron Copy Share Image
“That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away,… — William Shakespeare Copy Share
“ Autumn Days Yellow, mellow, ripened days, Sheltered in a golden coating; O'er the dreamy, listless haze, White and dainty cloudlets floating; Winking at… — Will Carleton Copy Share Image
May, queen of blossoms, And fulfilling flowers, With what pretty music Shall we charm the hours? Wilt thou have pipe and reed, Blown in… — Edward Thurlow, 1st Baron Thurlow Copy Share Image
“The wood is decked in light green leaf. The swallow twitters in delight. The lonely vine sheds joyous tears Of interwoven dew and light.… — Anonymous Copy Share Image
“As all the colours blend into one resplendent rainbow, so all the glories of heaven and earth meet in thee, and unite so wondrously,… — Charles H. Spurgeon Copy Share Image
The tender violet bent in smiles To elves that sported nigh, Tossing the drops of fragrant dew To scent the evening sky. — Elizabeth Oakes Smith Copy Share Image
There is so much beauty in autumn and so much wisdom; so much separation and so much sorrow! — Mehmet Murat Ildan Copy Share Image
But hail thou Goddess sage and holy, Hail, divinest Melancholy, Whose saintly visage is too bright To hit the sense of human sight, And… — John Milton 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
