Thanatopsis

William Cullen Bryant

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 dark musings, with a mild

And gentle 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-belonging 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 nourish thee, shall claim

Thy growth, to be resolv\'d to earth again;

And, lost each human trace, surrend\'ring up

Thine individual being, shalt thou go

To mix forever with the elements,

To be a brother to th\'insensible rock

And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain

Turns with his share, and trends upon. The oak

Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould.

Yet not to thy 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 might sepulcher. --The hills

Rock-ribb\'d 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 pour\'d round all,