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To the Fringed Gentian Thou blossom bright with autumn dew, And colored with the heaven’s own blue, That openest when the quiet light Succeeds the keen and frosty night, Thou comest not when violets lean O’er wandering brooks and springs unseen, Or columbines, in... Poet: William Cullen Bryant	Gentian So all day long I followed through the fields The voice of Autumn, calling from afar; And now I thought: “Yon hazel thicket yields A glimpse of her,” and now: “These asters are Sure sign that she of late has passed this way; Lo! here the traces of... Poet: Elizabeth Green Crane	To the Fringed Gentian Thou blossom, bright with autumn dew, And colored with the heaven’s own blue, That openest when the quiet light Succeeds the keen and frosty night; Thou comest not when violets lean O’er wandering brooks and springs unseen, Or columbines, in... Poet: William Cullen Bryant	Distrustful of the Gentian — Distrustful of the Gentian — And just to turn away, The fluttering of her fringes Chid my perfidy — Weary for my ————— I will singing go — I shall not feel the sleet — then — I shall not fear... Poet:
The Gentian weaves her fringes — The Gentian weaves her fringes — The Maple's loom is red — My departing blossoms Obviate parade. A brief, but patient illness — An hour to prepare, And one below this morning Is where the... Poet: