A herd of prairie-wolves will enter a field of melons and quarrel about the division of the spoils as fiercely and noisily as so many politicians.
William C. BryantThe 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.
William C. BryantI shall seeThe hour of death draw near to me,Hope, blossoming within my heart. . . .
William C. Bryant