76 ordspråk av William Cullen Bryant

US  William Cullen Bryant

William Cullen Bryant föddes den 3 November 1794 och dog den 12 Juni 1878
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 The air was fragrant with a thousand trodden aromatic herbs, with fields of lavender, and with the brightest roses blushing in tufts all over the meadows. . . .

 The earth may ring, from shore to shore,
With echoes of a glorious name,
But he, whose loss our tears deplore,
Has left behind him more than fame.

 The groves were God's first temples.

 The hills,
Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun, -- the vales
Stretching in pensive quietness between;
The venerable woods -- rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks
That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,
Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste, --
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man.

 The hills,
Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun, -- the vales
Stretching in pensive quietness between;
The venerable woods -- rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks
That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,
Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste, --
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man.

 The horrid tale of perjury and strife,
Murder and spoil, which men call history.

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

 The moon is at her full, and, riding high,
Floods the calm fields with light.
The airs that hover in the summer sky
Are all asleep to-night.

 The praise of those who sleep in earth,
The pleasant memory of their worth,
The hope to meet when life is past,
Shall heal the tortured mind at last.

 The press is a mill that grinds all that is put into its hopper. Fill the hopper with poisoned grain and it will grind it to meal, but there is death in the bread.

 The sounds I had heard seemed worthy to mingle with this bright and perfumed atmosphere, and to thrill the beautiful scenery around me.

 The stormy March has come at last,
With wind, and cloud, and changing skies;
I hear the rushing of the blast,
That through the snowy valley flies.

 The visions of my youth are past
Too bright, too beautiful to last.

 The words of fire that from his pen
Were flung upon the fervid page,
Still move, still shake the hearts of men,
Amid a cold and coward age.

 There is a power whose care
Teaches thy way along that pathless coast, --


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Diese Website konzentriert sich auf Sprichwörter der schwedischen Sprache. Einige Teile einschließlich der Links sind nicht ins Deutsche übersetzt worden. Diese Links sind hauptsächlich FAQ, verschiedene Informationen und Webseiten, die der Erweiterung der Sammlung dienen.


Här har vi samlat ordstäv och talesätt i 35 år!

Vad är sprichwort?
Hur funkar det?
Vanliga frågor
Om samlingen
Ordspråkshjältar
Hjälp till!




När det blåser kallt är ordspråk ballt.

www.livet.se/zitate