In silence and sunshine glides away. In the dim forest crowded with old oaks,
That slumber in thy country's sods. And muse on human lifefor all around
Had blushed, outdone, and owned herself a fright. And crimson drops at morning lay
By poets of the gods of Greece. Plod on, and each one as before will chase
William Cullen Bryant The Waning Moon. I've watched too late; the morn is near;
Gathers the blossoms of her fourth bright year;
Whose early guidance trained my infant steps
Sheer to the vale go down the bare old cliffs,
Comes up, as modest and as blue,
I pass the dreary hour,
From the old battle-fields and tombs,
Rose over the place that held their bones;
One mellow smile through the soft vapory air, Ere, o'er the frozen earth, the loud winds run, Or snows are sifted o'er the meadows bare. His sweet and tender eyes,
And thou, my cheerless mansion, receive thy master back.". parties related, to a friend of the author, the story on which the
And the zephyr stoops to freshen his wings,
White bones from which the flesh was torn, and locks of glossy hair;
Let go the ring, I pray." Dull love of rest, and weariness and fear. Summoned the sudden crimson to thy cheek. Its citieswho forgets not, at the sight
Till, freed by death, his soul of fire
Ah! On the young blossoms of the wood. harassed by the irregular and successful warfare which he kept
The lost ones backyearns with desire intense,
Shall the great law of change and progress clothe
The murmuring shores in a perpetual hymn. Not in wars like thine
Had given their stain to the wave they drink; Charles
In lawns the murmuring bee is heard,
For birds were warbling round, and bees were heard
Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound
For this magnificent temple of the sky
would not have been admitted into this collection, had not the
And I will learn of thee a prayer,
AyI would sail upon thy air-borne car
Looks forth on the night as the hour grows late. Might but a little part,
That told the wedded one her peace was flown. The greatest of thy follies is forgiven,
For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain
Through the blue fields afar,
More swiftly than my oar. And the sceptre his children's hands should sway
Shift o'er the bright planets and shed their dews;
And they shall bow to death, who ruled from shore to shore;
I broke the spell that held me long,
And gains its door with a bound. found in the African Repository for April, 1825. Yet pride, that fortune humbles not,
With years, should gather round that day;
Unveiled, and terribly shall shake the earth. Sad hyacinths, and violets dim and sweet,
At first, then fast and faster, till at length
The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore,
I meet the flames with flames again,
And I wait, with a thrill in every vein,
And there was sadness round, and faces bowed,
The farmer swung the scythe or turned the hay,
indicate the existence, at a remote period, of a nation at
And I am come to dwell beside the olive-grove with thee.". In bright alcoves,
A tale of sorrow cherished
And mark yon soft white clouds that rest
I have watched them through the burning day,
To show to human eyes. A carpet for thy feet. Stillest the angry world to peace again. Nurse of full streams, and lifter-up of proud
That startle the sleeping bird;
Ah, those that deck thy gardens
Who awed the world with her imperial frown
Put we hence
Oh! The lute's sweet tones are not so sweet
And keep her valleys green. Where one who made their dwelling dear,
story of the crimes the guilty sought
Reap we not the ripened wheat,
Strolled groups of damsels frolicksome and fair;
He breaks through the veil of boughs and leaves,
Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,
A pebbly brook, where rustling winds among the hopples sweep,
Gathers his annual harvest here,
thou quickenest, all
And my good glass will tell me how
Gently, to one of gentle mould like thee,
A hundred of the foe shall be
By registering with PoetryNook.Com and adding a poem, you represent that you own the copyright to that poem and are granting PoetryNook.Com permission to publish the poem. Thy clustering locks are dry,
Ye take the cataract's sound;
Merciless power has dug thy dungeon deep,
Where stole thy still and scanty waters. Ye, from your station in the middle skies,
And sellest, it is said, the blackest cheapest. In deep lonely glens where the waters complain,
And beat of muffled drum. And I will sing him, as he lies,
Of flowers and streams the bloom and light,
All summer he moistens his verdant steeps
Sparkle the crowd of stars, when day is done,
And willing faith was thine, and scorn of wrong
Wild storms have torn this ancient wood,
On all the peaceful world the smile of heaven shall lie. Naked rows of graves
The blast that wakes the fury of the sea? So centuries passed by, and still the woods
But once, in autumn's golden time,
The sunbeams might rejoice thy rest. p 314. Drop by the sun-stroke in the populous town:
And Rizpah, once the loveliest of all
Were all too short to con it o'er;
Only in savage wood
And the restless ever-mounting flame is not more hard to bind. Depart the hues that make thy forests glad;
Amid this fresh and virgin solitude,
Of thy perfections. Where olive leaves were twinkling in every wind that blew,
In such a bright, late quiet, would that I
Have forged thy chain; yet, while he deems thee bound,
A warrior of illustrious name. The wild beleaguerers broke, and, one by one,
The roses where they stand,
Came loud and shrill the crowing of the cock;
And they who stray in perilous wastes, by night,
Rolled from the organ! Passing to lap thy waters, crushed the flower
I know, I know I should not see
Gone are the glorious Greeks of old,
And in the land of light, at last,
God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore
But smote his brother down in the bright day,
From thicket to thicket the angler glides; Or the simpler comes, with basket and book. Goest thou to build an early name,
And wandered home again. would that bolt had not been spent! I think that the lines that best mirrors the theme of the poem of WIlliam Cullen Bryant entitled as "Consumption'' would be these parts: 'Glide softly to thy rest then; Death should come Gently, to one of gentle mould like thee, As light winds wandering through groves of bloom' Why we are here; and what the reverence
Pours forth the light of love. And the brightness of their smile was gone, from upland, glade, and glen. Wild stormy month! To quiet valley and shaded glen; The wild boar of the wood, and the chamois of the rocks,
Thou keep'st thy old unmoving station yet,
Sweet Zephyr! A while that melody is still, and then breaks forth anew
With the thick moss of centuries, and there
Then haste thee, Time'tis kindness all
Thundered by torrents which no power can hold,
'Tis not with gilded sabres
Of bustle, gathers the tired brood to rest. For a wild holiday, have quaintly shaped
Trode out their lives and earned the curse of Cain! Like the resounding sea,
And they go out in darkness. But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood,
The quiet August noon has come,
Oh Life! His palfrey, white and sleek,
Grew chill, and glistened in the frozen rains
That fairy music I never hear,
But through the idle mesh of power shall break
The only slave of toil and care. Sweet flower, I love, in forest bare,
An arrow slightly strikes his hand and falls upon the ground. They seemed the perfumes of thy native fen. Except the love of God, which shall live and last for aye. I knew thy meaningthou didst praise
A pillar of American romanticism, William Cullen Bryant's greatest muse was the beauty of the natural world. Oh! While a near hum from bees and brooks
The art of verse, and in the bud of life[Page39]
And orange blossoms on their dark green stems. Her dwelling, wondered that they heard no more
Too lenient for the crime by half." I'll not o'erlook the modest flower
Ever watched his coming to see? And silent waters heaven is seen;
The wild swan from the sky. They well might see another mark to which thine arrows go;
Like traveller singing along his way. the exception of the one from the Portuguese, is framed according
On each side
thou art like our wayward race;
But why should the bodiless soul be sent[Page130]
Wanders amid the fresh and fertile meads,
The dust of her who loved and was betrayed,
Alone the chirp of flitting bird,
eNotes critical analyses help you gain a deeper understanding of Thanatopsis so you can excel on your essay or test. he had been concerned in murdering a traveller in Stockbridge for
Rise, as the rushing waters swell and spread. The melody of winds with charmed ear. On thy dim and shadowy brow
And on hard cheeks, and they who deemed thy skill
And thus decreed the court above
know more of the matter, I have ventured to make my western
In that stern war of forms, a mockery and a name. Thou dost not hear the shrieking gust,
And worshipped, while the husbandmen withdrew
There played no children in the glen;
these lines were written, originally projected and laid out by our
Who fought with Aliatar. Of nature. Eve, with her veil of tresses, at the sight
Through weary day and weary year. The oak
The birds and wafting billows plant the rifts
Cesariem regum, non candida virginis ornat
I never shall the land forget
Where the crystal battlements rise? And it is pleasant, when the noisy streams[Page27]
Of wolf and cougar hang upon the walls,
The valley woods lie prone beneath your flight. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes. that, with threadlike legs spread out,
Written on thy works I read
When loftier flowers are flaunting nigh. Dear to me as my own. Fling their huge arms across my way,
Since she who chides her lover, forgives him ere he goes. And the plane-tree's speckled arms o'ershoot The golden ring is there. With thy sweet smile and silver voice,
In the light cloud-shadows that slowly pass,
Were trampled by a hurrying crowd,
I look againa hunter's lodge is built,
And military coat, a glorious show! "Thou art a flatterer like the rest, but wouldst thou take with me
Emblems of power and beauty! For trophiesbut he died before that day. The paradise he made unto himself,
The laws that God or man has made, and round
possesses no peculiar beauty for an ear accustomed only to the
This effigy, the strange disused form
Afar,
Now stooped the sunthe shades grew thin;[Page242]
Thus breaking hearts their pain relieve;
Follow delighted, for he makes them go
To aim the rifle here;
And when, in the mid skies,[Page172]
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods
As from the shrubby glen is heard the sound of hidden brook. To banquet on the dead;
We can really derive that the line that proposes the topic Nature offers a position of rest for the people who are exhausted is take hour from study and care. In the great record of the world is thine;
That guard the enchanted ground. A hollow sound, as if I walked on tombs! Nor heed the shaft too surely cast,
Like wind, thou point'st him to the dreadful goal,
And flood the skies with a lurid glow. 'Tis a bleak wild hill,but green and bright
Ere from these vales, ashamed and weak,
In and out
He sees what none but lover might,
The meteors of a mimic day
And well thou maystfor Italy's brown maids[Page121]
To spare his eyes the sight. Far back in the ages,
The herd's white bones lie mixed with human mould
She ceased, and turning from him her flushed and angry cheek,
Fruits on the woodland branches lay,
Artless one! Alone shall Evil die,
Now, if thou art a poet, tell me not
With heaven's own beam and image shine. Raved through the leafy beeches,
Upheaved in broken cliffs and airy peaks,
And call upon thy trusty squire to bring thy spears in hand. There are fair wan women with moonstruck air,
Of thy pure maidens, and thy innocent babes,
Approach! Is heard the gush of springs. Scarlet tufts
That bright eternal beacon, by whose ray
Of the drowned city. Nestled at his root[Page89]
Around a struggling swimmer the eddies dash and roar,
Green River Poem by William Cullen Bryant Poems Quotes Books Biography Comments Images Green River When breezes are soft and skies are fair, I steal an hour from study and care, And hie me away to the woodland scene, Where wanders the stream with waters of green, As if the bright fringe of herbs on its brink In the cold moist earth we laid her, when the forest cast the leaf,
Coolness and life. Nor long may thy still waters lie,
'Tis passing sweet to mark,
That never shall return. blossoms before the trees are yet in leaf, have a singularly beautiful
D.Leave as it is, Extra! And Sorrow dwell a prisoner in thy reign. The red man slowly drags the enormous bear
He comes! Great in thy turnand wide shall spread thy fame,
Does prodigal Autumn, to our age, deny
That yet shall read thy tale, will tremble at thy crimes. The clouds are at play in the azure space,
One look at God's broad silent sky! The wooing ring-dove in the shade;
I looked, and thought the quiet of the scene
How the time-stained walls,
Sinned gaily on, and grew to giant size,
And sought out gentle deeds to gladden life;
Crowd back to narrow bounds the ancient night. Drink up the ebbing spiritthen the hard
of the Housatonic, in the western part of Massachusetts. Bear home the abundant grain. Thou comest not when violets lean
"The red men say that here she walked
In meadows red with blossoms,
"Oh, greenest of the valleys, how shall I come to thee! Now a gentler race succeeds,
Oh, Night's dethroned and crownless queen! "Ye sigh not when the sun, his course fulfilled,
The saints as fervently on bended knees
Where wanders the stream with waters of green, As if the bright fringe of herbs on its brink. This sweet lone isle amid the sea. Yet soon a new and tender light
Thrust thy arm into thy buckler, gird on thy crooked brand,
Of this lonely spot, that man of toil,
While oer them the vine to its thicket clings. Rose in the sky and bore thee soft along;
And in my maiden flower and pride
Pay the deep reverence, taught of old,
As rocks are shivered in the thunder-stroke. I cannot forget with what fervid devotion
Showed warrior true and brave;
"Farewell, with thy glad dwellers, green vale among the rocks! Of winter, till the white man swung the axe
Thy basin, how thy waters keep it green! Shall softly glide away into the keen
As if a hunt were up,
Would kill thee, hapless stranger, if he could. Nor when they gathered from the rustling husk
That one in love with peace should have loved a man of blood! that I should fail to see
Dost overhang and circle all. Dilo tu, amor, si lo viste;
Thy golden sunshine comes
Till May brings back the flowers. A dame of high degree;
Glanced, till the strong tornado broke his way
And in the great savanna,
For the deeds of to-morrow night. The deadly slumber of frost to creep,
But the howling wind and the driving rain
For ages, on their deeds in the hard chase,
Where the cold breezes come not, blooms alone
Thou, whose hands have scooped
Pealed far away the startling sound
Whom ye lament and all condemn;
As many an age before. the whirlwinds bear
Startling the loiterer in the naked groves
I mixed with the world, and ye faded;
Each planet, poised on her turning pole;
On such grave theme, and sweet the dream that shed
Weep not for Scio's children slain;
To Cole, the Painter, Departing for Europe reveals within the sheer expansive and differentiation in the landscape of America a nobility and solemn dignity not to be found in natural world of Europe describe by its poets. Thus should the pure and the lovely meet,
Behind the fallen chief,
He framed this rude but solemn strain: "Here will I make my homefor here at least I see,
The blast shall rend thy skirts, or thou mayst frown
But who shall bide thy tempest, who shall face
To linger in my waking sight. Of my burning eyeballs went to my brain. For he came forth
"I know where the timid fawn abides
Who shall with soothing words accost
Upon the stony ways, and hammer-clang,
From the low modest shade, to light and bless the earth. Through endless generations,
That, brightly leaping down the hills,
Or like the rainy tempest, speaks of thee. Hides vainly in the forest's edge;
To be a brother to the insensible rock
'Tis thus, from warm and kindly hearts,
I fear me thou couldst tell a shameful tale
To where life shrinks from the fierce Alpine air,
The purple calcedon. Are pale compared with ours. And sent him to the war the day she should have been his bride,
Whose hands can touch a lover's hand. author been unwilling to lose what had the honour of resembling
Deems highest, to converse with her. at last in a whirring sound. Nourished their harvests, here their herds were fed,
The power, the will, that never rest,
And nodded careless by. When not a shade of pain or ill
Are all the proud and pompous modes to gain
For them thou fill'st with air the unbounded skies,
And happy living things that trod the bright
. The surface rolls and fluctuates to the eye;
While streamed afresh her graceful tears,
And pay the impious rite thy laws condemn. in full-grown strength, an empire stands
The roaming hunter tribes, warlike and fierce,
Thou dost mark them flushed with hope,
And fanes of banished gods, and open tombs,
And round the horizon bent,
Where now the solemn shade,
Of the new earth and heaven. This arm his savage strength shall tame,
And bade her clear her clouded brow;
Beyond remotest smoke of hunter's camp,[Page159]
That lay along the boughs, instinct with life,
His young limbs from the chains that round him press. And, nearer to the Rocky Mountains, sought
Where broadest spread the waters and the line
Of heart and violent of hand restores
Where lie thy plains, with sheep-walks seamed, and olive-shades between:
Of long familiar truths. There lived and walked again,
A path, thick-set with changes and decays,
Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame,
I know where most the pheasants feed, and where the red-deer herd,
The wind was laid, the storm was overpast,
And with them the old tale of better days,
I have eaten the bitter herb of the rocks,
Shall it be banished from thy tongue in heaven? Goes down the west, while night is pressing on,
With all the forms, and hues, and airs,
Heard the love-signal of the grouse, that wears
Of heaven's sweet air, nor foot of man dares tread
But when the sun grew low
The words of fire that from his pen
I too must grieve with thee,
A shout at thy return. We make no warranties of any kind, express or implied, about the completeness, accuracy, reliability and suitability with respect to the information. Save that of God, when he sends forth his cold,
Faded his late declining years away. And whether famished evening wolves had mangled Albert so,
"Those hunting-grounds are far away, and, lady, 'twere not meet
Blueblueas if that sky let fall
Wear it who will, in abject fear
Thy fleeces are for monks, thy grapes for the convent feast,
thy waters flow;
Plays on the slope a while, and then
Or do the portals of another life
Here pealed the impious hymn, and altar flames
And after dreams of horror, comes again
That seemed to glimmer like a star
Yet far thou stretchest o'er his flight. Their cruel engines; and their hosts, arrayed
There sat beneath the pleasant shade a damsel of Peru. How the verdure runs o'er each rolling mass! Thine is a war for liberty, and thou
I'll sing, in his delighted ear,
Of streams that water banks for ever fair,
For he is in his grave who taught my youth
About the cliffs
Moonlight gleams are stealing;
They place an iron crown, and call thee king
Shaggy fells
While I stood
At morn the Count of Greiers before his castle stands;
When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still,
From mountain river swift and cold;
His withered hands, and from their ambush call
Graves by the lonely forest, by the shore
Reigns o'er the fields; the laborer sits within
The things, oh LIFE! And many a hanging crag. 'Twas noon, 'twas summer: I beheld
The bird's perilous flight also pushes the speaker to express faith in God, who, the poem argues, guides all creatures through difficult times. Upon the Winter of their age. As now at other murders. Que de mi te acuerdes! Their hearts are all with Marion,
Towns blazethe smoke of battle blots the sun
Moves o'er it evermore. Those shining flowers are gathered for the dead. Whose part, in all the pomp that fills
Nothey are all unchained again. Thence look the thoughtful stars, and there
The wife, whose babe first smiled that day,[Page205]
See! Now on thy stream the noonbeams look,
She gazed upon it long, and at the sight
And givest them the stores
The northern dawn was red,
The willow, a perpetual mourner, drooped;
There the blue sky and the white drifting cloud
New-born, amid those glorious vales, and broke
Fills them, or is withdrawn. His spurs are buried rowel-deep, he rides with loosened rein,
Thy shoutings, while the pale oppressor flies. Still waned the day; the wind that chased
His pride, and lays his strifes and follies by? And many a fount wells fresh and sweet,
Have dealt the swift and desperate blow,
In grief that they had lived in vain. And mighty vines, like serpents, climb
And War shall lay his pomp away;
Winding walks of great extent,
The pride of those who reign;
Mangled by tomahawks. Where green their laurels flourished:
The sound of that advancing multitude
Sweet flowers of heaven to scent the unbreathed air,
Thy hand to practise best the lenient art
Shall then come forth to wear
Those pure and happy timesthe golden days of old. Swept the grim cloud along the hill. Innumerable, hurrying to and fro. The shutting flower, and darkling waters pass,
Decolor, obscuris, vilis, non ille repexam
ever beautiful
So live, that when thy summons comes to join
And I am in the wilderness alone. Of the low sun, and mountain-tops are bright,
Of desolation and of fear became
Yet oh, when that wronged Spirit of our race
And torrents dashed and rivulets played,
he drew more tight
Ye shook from shaded flowers the lingering dew;
"And oh that those glorious haunts were mine!" The swifter current that mines its root, Was stillest, gorged his battle-axe with blood;