---
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.