From e746c6055cb175edc6a14d1bf45d5ab2625e5e9f Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Zane Meyers Date: Mon, 8 Jun 2026 18:52:14 -0400 Subject: [PATCH] vault backup: 2026-06-08 18:52:14 --- bryant_1881_thanatopsis.md | 95 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 1 file changed, 95 insertions(+) create mode 100644 bryant_1881_thanatopsis.md diff --git a/bryant_1881_thanatopsis.md b/bryant_1881_thanatopsis.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d1dce10 --- /dev/null +++ b/bryant_1881_thanatopsis.md @@ -0,0 +1,95 @@ +--- +title: Thanatopsis +tags: + - exclude-from-word-count + - type/media/poetry +author: William Cullen Bryant +year: 1881 +--- +# Thanatopsis + +To him who in the love of Nature holds \ +Communion with her visible forms, she speaks \ +A various language; for his gayer hours \ +She has a voice of gladness, and a smile \ +And eloquence of beauty, and she glides \ +Into his darker musings, with a mild \ +And healing sympathy, that steals away \ +Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts \ +Of the last bitter hour come like a blight \ +Over thy spirit, and sad images \ +Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, \ +And breathless darkness, and the narrow house, \ +Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart;--- \ +Go forth, under the open sky, and list \ +To Nature's teachings, while from all around--- \ +Earth and her waters, and the depths of air--- \ +Comes a still voice---Yet a few days, and thee \ +The all-beholding sun shall see no more \ +In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground, \ +Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, \ +Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist \ +Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim \ +Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again, \ +And, lost each human trace, surrendering up \ +Thine individual being, shalt thou go \ +To mix for ever with the elements, \ +To be a brother to the insensible rock \ +And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain \ +Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak \ +Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould. + +\ + +Yet not to thine eternal resting-place \ +Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish \ +Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down \ +With patriarchs of the infant world---with kings, \ +The powerful of the earth---the wise, the good, \ +Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, \ +All in one mighty sepulchre. 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 golden sun, \ +The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, \ +Are shining on the sad abodes of death, \ +Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread \ +The globe are but a handful to the tribes \ +That slumber in its bosom.---Take the wings \ +Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness, \ +Or lose thyself in the continuous woods \ +Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, \ +Save his own dashings---yet the dead are there: \ +And millions in those solitudes, since first \ +The flight of years began, have laid them down \ +In their last sleep---the dead reign there alone. \ +So shalt thou rest, and what if thou withdraw \ +In silence from the living, and no friend \ +Take note of thy departure? All that breathe \ +Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh \ +When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care \ +Plod on, and each one as before will chase \ +His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave \ +Their mirth and their employments, and shall come \ +And make their bed with thee. As the long train \ +Of ages glide away, the sons of men, \ +The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes \ +In the full strength of years, matron and maid, \ +The speechless babe, and the gray-headed man--- \ +Shall one by one be gathered to thy side, \ +By those, who in their turn shall follow them. + +So live, that when thy summons comes to join \ +The innumerable caravan, which moves \ +To that mysterious realm, where each shall take \ +His chamber in the silent halls of death, \ +Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, \ +Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed \ +By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, \ +Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch \ +About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.