First Lines of William Cullen Bryant
An Indian girl was sitting whereAy, gloriously thou standest there,Beneath the forest's skirt I rest,Come, take our boy, and we will goErewhile, on England's pleasant shores, out siresI broke the spell that held me long,I buckle to my slender sideI gazed upon the glorious skyLament who will, in fruitless tears,Oh, deem not they are blest aloneOh, fairest of the rural maids!Soon as the glazed and gleaming snowStranger, if thou hast learned a truth which needsThey talk of short-lived pleasure --be it so --When beechen buds begin to swell,When breezes are soft and skies are fair,When he, who, from the scourge of wrong,When insect wings are glistening in the beamWhen the radiant morn of creation broke,Whither, midst falling dew,Yet one smile more, departing, distant sun!