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John Bartlett (1820–1905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.

Page 573

William Cullen Bryant. (1794–1878) (continued)
    The groves were God’s first temples.
          A Forest Hymn.
    The stormy March has come at last,
  With winds and clouds and changing skies;
I hear the rushing of the blast
  That through the snowy valley flies.
      But ’neath yon crimson tree
Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame,
Nor mark, within its roseate canopy,
  Her blush of maiden shame.
          Autumn Woods.
    The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.
          The Death of the Flowers.
    And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.
          The Death of the Flowers.
    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.
          A Scene on the Banks of the Hudson.
    The victory of endurance born.
          The Battle-Field.
    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.
          The Battle-Field.
Joseph Rodman Drake. (1795–1820)
    When Freedom from her mountain-height
  Unfurled her standard to the air,
She tore the azure robe of night,
  And set the stars of glory there.
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes
The milky baldric of the skies,