New York Free Soilers

"The right to discuss freely and openly, by speech, by the pen, by the press, all political questions, and to examine and animadvert upon all political institutions, is a right so clear and certain, so interwoven with our other liberties, so necessary, in fact to their existence, that without it we must fall at once into depression or anarchy. To say that he who holds unpopular opinions must hold them at the peril of his life, and that, if he expresses them in public, he has only himself to blame if they who disagree with him should rise and put him to death, is to strike at all rights, all liberties, all protection of the laws, and to justify and extenuate all crimes."

"To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language."

"Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings."

"The hills, Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun."

"Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste."

"All that tread, The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom."

"So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan which moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams."

"There is something in this universe which justifies William Cullen Bryant in saying Truth crushed to earth will rise again."

"[Thanatopsis] was written in 1817, when Bryant was 23. Had he died then, the world would have thought it had lost a great poet. But he lived on."

"But ’neath yon crimson tree Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame, Nor mark, within its roseate canopy, Her blush of maiden shame."

"All things that are on earth shall wholly pass away, Except the love of God, which shall live and last for aye."

"These are the gardens of the Desert, these The unshorn fields, boundless and beautiful, For which the speech of England has no name— The Prairies."

"Maidens hearts are always soft: Would that men's were truer!"

"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."

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

"Thou unrelenting Past! Strong are the barriers round thy dark domain, And fetters, sure and fast, Hold all that enter thy unbreathing reign."

"Loveliest of lovely things are they, On earth, that soonest pass away. The rose that lives its little hour Is prized beyond the sculptured flower."

"And the blue gentian flower, that, in the breeze, Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last."

"Weep not that the world changes—did it keep A stable, changeless state, 'twere cause indeed to weep."

"Remorse is virtue's root; its fair increase Are fruits of innocence and blessedness."

"They talk of short-lived pleasures—be it so— pain dies as quickly: stern, hard-featured pain Expires, and lets her weary prisoner go. The fiercest agonies have shortest reign; And after dreams of horror, comes again The welcome morning with its rays of peace."

"Ah, why Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore Only among the crowd and under roofs That our frail hands have raised?"

"The groves were God's first temples."

"The little wind-flower, whose just opened eye Is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at."

"Oh, sun! that o'er the western mountains now Goest down in glory! ever beautiful And blessed is thy radiance, whether thou Colourest the eastern heaven and night-mist cool, Till the bright day-star vanish, or on high Climbest and streamest thy white splendours from mid-sky."

"Here the free spirit of mankind, at length, Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place A limit to the giant's unchained strength, Or curb his swiftness in the forward race!"

"Thine eyes are springs in whose serene And silent waters heaven is seen; Their lashes are the herbs that look On their young figures in the brook."

"He who, from zone to zone, Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone, Will lead my steps aright."

"Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along."

"There is a day of sunny rest For every dark and troubled night; And a grief may bid, and evening guest, Bot joy shall come with early light"