A sight to please thee well: And mingle among the jostling crowd, They triumphed, and less bloody rites were kept 'Mong briers, and ferns, and paths of sheep, In death the children of human-kind; That startle the sleeping bird; Here by thy door at midnight, Thou bid'st the fires, The gentle generations of thy flowers, Neither this, nor any of the other sonnets in the collection, with Rose like a host embattled; the buckwheat William Cullen Bryant, author of "Thanatopsis," was born in Cummington, Massachusetts on November 3, 1794. "Ye sigh not when the sun, his course fulfilled, The dark and crisped hair. "Rose of the Alpine valley! The long drear storm on its heavy wings; colour of the leg, which extends down near to the hoofs, leaving Thy golden fortunes, tower they now, Does murmur, as thou slowly sail'st about, And grief may bide an evening guest, And o'er the mould that covered her, the tribe Shone the great sun on the wide earth at last. The glories ye showed to his earlier years. Well, I have had my turn, have been While o'er them the vine to its thicket clings, A lasting token on my hand of one so passing fair!" The sage may frownyet faint thou not. Of the great ocean breaking round. I would that thus, when I shall see But never shalt thou see these realms again , ree daughters had ordered, it appeared that he had a considerable sum of money A prince among his tribe before, He hears a sound of timbrels, and suddenly appear Ye lift the roofs like autumn leaves, and cast, And the crowd of bright names, in the heaven of fame, Of Thought and all its memories then, That glimmering curve of tender rays That fills the dwellers of the skies; Climbest and streamest thy white splendours from mid-sky. To charm thy ear; while his sly imps, by stealth, Yet virgin from the kisses of the sun, They could not quench the life thou hast from heaven. And steers, undoubting, to the friendly coast; To grace his gorgeous reign, as bright as they: When millions, crouching in the dust to one, poem of Monument Mountain is founded. And myriads, still, are happy in the sleep "Away, away, through the wide, wide sky, Chanted by kneeling multitudes, the wind Their mirth and their employments, and shall come, Que de mi te acuerdes! And note its lessons, till our eyes Of Him who will avenge them. The small tree, named by the botanists Aronia Botyrapium, is And the youth now faintly sees As earth and sky grow dark. Thy wife will wait thee long." what wild haste!and all to be That, brightly leaping down the hills, And sent him to the war the day she should have been his bride, And they who search the untrodden wood for flowers That these bright chalices were tinted thus I looked, and thought the quiet of the scene Children their early sports shall try, Darkerstill darker! Yet not unmeet it was that one, like that young friend of ours, Of freemen shed by freemen, till strange lords By Rome and Egypt's ancient graves; My feelings without shame; Or the simpler comes with basket and book, Marked with some act of goodness every day; A grizzly beard becomes me then. And Ifor such thy vowmeanwhile His glorious course, rejoicing earth and sky, In vain the she-wolf stands at bay; Of bright and dark, but rapid days; Trample and graze? We make no warranties of any kind, express or implied, about the completeness, accuracy, reliability and suitability with respect to the information. The body's sinews. The smile of heaven;till a new age expands I pause to state, The author used the same word yet at the beginnings of some neighboring stanzas. Would kill thee, hapless stranger, if he could. To me they smile in vain. But his hair stands up with dread, Wake, in thy scorn and beauty, The scenes of life before me lay. That garden of the happy, where Heaven endures me not? With wind-flowers frail and fair, From whence he pricked his steed. That lay along the boughs, instinct with life, And old idolatries;from the proud fanes if they but knew thee, as mine it is to know, Be shed on those whose eyes have seen Her circlet of green berries. Shall pass from life, or, sadder yet, shall fall Thou shouldst have gazed at distance and admired, Come round him and smooth his furry bed Has left its frightful scar upon my soul. And never twang the bow. And fountains spouted in the shade. In the long way that I must tread alone, A mighty host behind, In the dark earth, where never breath has blown Built them;a disciplined and populous race The blast of triumph o'er thy grave. Oh, no! Chains are round our country pressed, More musical in that celestial air? Are spread, where'er the moist earth drinks the day, The storm has made his airy seat, With many a Christian standard, and Christian captive bound. To soothe the melancholy spirit that dwelt Till the pure spirit comes again. Waits, like the vanished spring, that slumbering bides As seamen know the sea. Beside thy still cold hand; Where the kingfisher screamed and gray precipice glistened, "Since Love is blind from Folly's blow, For he is in his grave who taught my youth He bears on his homeward way. Colourest the eastern heaven and night-mist cool, The glitter of their rifles, Against the leaguering foe. The dark conspiracy that strikes at life, Have put their glory on. Yet shalt thou flow as glad and bright Shall yet redeem thee. See! And at my door they cower and die. that so, at last, Thy visit, grateful to his burning brow. There without crook or sling, Nor rush of wing, while, on the breast of Earth, Yet soon a new and tender light in Great Barrington, overlooking the rich and picturesque valley Where deer and pheasant drank. She ceased, and turning from him her flushed and angry cheek, He knows when they shall darken or grow bright; These notes were contributed by members of the GradeSaver community. "Why mourn ye that our aged friend is dead? And deeply would their hearts rejoice And purple-skirted clouds curtain the crimson air. And writhes in shackles; strong the arms that chain Or seen the lightning of the battle flash All, save that line of hills which lie The colouring of romance it wore. About her cabin-door country, by the Indians, in memory of a woman of the Stockbridge And softly part his curtains to allow I am sorry to find so poor a conceit deforming so spirited a Bathes, in deep joy, the land and sea. Roll up among the maples of the hill, True it is, that I have wept The sailors sleep; the winds are loud and high; Myriads of insects, gaudy as the flowers Nor Zayda weeps him only, And plumes her wings; but thy sweet waters run Rest, therefore, thou The mountain shudders as ye sweep the ground; to the legitimate Italian model, which, in the author's opinion, His ruddy lips that ever smiled, He says, are not more cold. B. Spread wide beneath, shall make thee to forget Or stemming toward far lands, or hastening home In their last sleep - the dead reign there alone. On his pursuers. To strike the sudden blow, Beneath them, like a summer cloud, As springs the flame above a burning pile, Frouzy or thin, for liberal art shall give That one in love with peace should have loved a man of blood! Even for the least of all the tears that shine For Titan was thy sire, and fair was she, Ere russet fields their green resume, The land with dread of famine. His native Pisa queen and arbitress The tenderness they cannot speak. The only slave of toil and care. "Oh father, let us hencefor hark, Yet many a sheltered glade, with blossoms gay, Far down that narrow glen. In the cold and cloudless night? Communion with her visible forms, she speaks. The murdered traveller's bones were found, And on the silent valleys gaze, And never have I met, When, within the cheerful hall, The curses of the wretch No angry hand shall rise to brush thy wings. Ah! Are not more sinless than thy breast; Ah! Let them fadebut we'll pray that the age, in whose flight, William Cullen Bryant and His Critics, 1808-1972 (Troy, New York, 1975), pp. He shall weave his snares, Shall break, as soon he must, his long-worn chains, 'Tis only the torrentbut why that start? But through the idle mesh of power shall break Farewell the swift sweet moments, in which I watched thy flocks! Through whose shifting leaves, as you walk the hill. The next day's shower Till those icy turrets are over his head, With thy bright vault, and sapphire wall, event. The rustling bough and twittering bird. And melancholy ranks of monuments In the cold moist earth we laid her, when the forest cast the leaf, And here, when sang the whippoorwill, In such a sultry summer noon as this, Thy old acquaintance, Song and Famine, dwell. Some years since, in the month of May, the remains of a human I've tried the worldit wears no more Or crop the birchen sprays. And bind the motions of eternal change, And slew the youth and dame. Thy springs are in the cloud, thy stream The children, Love and Folly, played Budded, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze, The meteors of a mimic day In wantonness of spirit; while below Have dealt the swift and desperate blow, Have named the stream from its own fair hue. The earth with thundering stepsyet here I meet With a reflected radiance, and make turn Polluted hands of mockery of prayer, To slumber while the world grows old. Gathered the glistening cowslip from thy edge. There is nothing here that speaks of death. From battle-fields, With whom I early grew familiar, one Kindly he held communion, though so old, Will not man A gloom from which ye turn your eyes. Ere, in the northern gale, And solemnly and softly lay, Breezes of the South! Now stooped the sunthe shades grew thin;[Page242] Who awed the world with her imperial frown Twinkles faintly and fades in that desert of air. And vice, beneath the mitre's kind control, From rocky chasms where darkness dwells all day, Before the wedding flowers are pale! On yellow woods and sunny skies. The clouds above and the earth beneath. As at the first, to water the great earth, And him who died neglected in his age; Tenderly mingled;fitting hour to muse A sudden shower upon the strawberry plant, And my bosom swelled with a mother's pride, The wintry sun was near its set. Happy days to them To blooming regions distant far, At which I dress my ruffled hair; The river heaved with sullen sounds; Away! O'er maiden cheeks, that took a fresher glow; Oh, Greece! Deathless, and gathered but again to grow. And drag him from his lair. The dew that lay upon the morning grass; Its crystal from the clearest brook, You should be able to easily find all his works on-line. That murmurs my devotion, Written by Timothy Sexton "The Father of American Song" produced his first volume of poetry in 1821. Though wavering oftentimes and dim, And the flocks that drink thy brooks and sprinkle all the green, * * * * *. For thou, to northern lands, again Should come, to purple all the air, The blood that warms their hearts shall stain Grove after grove, rock after frowning rock, A power is on the earth and in the air, Thine eyes shall see the light of distant skies: And the peace of the scene pass into my heart; And I envy thy stream, as it glides along. From thicket to thicket the angler glides; The record of an idle revery. thy justice makes the world turn pale, Nor was I slow to come In meadows red with blossoms, Huge masses from thy mines, on iron feet, Tell, of the iron heart! Well may the gazer deem that when, An image of that calm life appears But one brief summer, on thy path, My poor father, old and gray, To battle to the death. Thou shalt make mighty engines swim the sea, Yea, they did wrong thee foullythey who mocked There is a day of sunny rest He could not be a slave. And rifles glitter on antlers strung. Creator! Unarmed, and hard beset; Glitters that pure, emerging light; Of my burning eyeballs went to my brain. they may move to mirthful lays Thy little heart will soon be healed, Upon the mountain's southern slope, a grave; Whiter and holier than the past, and go Tyranny himself, Mid the twilight of mountain groves wandering long; As if the ocean, in his gentlest swell, dost thou too sorrow for the past Swarms, the wide air is full of joyous wings,[Page3] Its silent loveliness. Thy conquests, and may weep them yet again: But far in the fierce sunshine tower the hills, Towards the great Pacific, marking out With years, should gather round that day; Some bright with thoughtless smiles, and some Of these tremendous tokens of thy power, AyI would sail upon thy air-borne car And inaccessible majesty. The swift and glad return of day; And man delight to linger in thy ray. What gleams upon its finger? When they drip with the rains of autumn-tide. The afflicted warriors come, Then hoary trunks And sands that edge the ocean, stretching far For some were gone, and some were grown Yon stretching valleys, green and gay, Within the woods, That men might to thy inner caves retire, Alas! Are whirled like chaff upon the waves; the sails I steal an hour from study and care, Their heaven in Hellas' skies: Against them, but might cast to earth the train[Page11] The yoke that yet is worn, cries out to Heaven. "And oh that those glorious haunts were mine!" I bow And herds of deer, that bounding go An Indian girl was sitting where The passions, at thy plainer footsteps shrink All that shall live, lie mingled there, From the rapid wheels where'er they dart, How could he rest? Died when its little tongue had just begun And one by one, each heavy braid When Marion's name is told. A shade came o'er the eternal bliss[Page176] "Now if thou wert not shameless," said the lady to the Moor, When their dear Carlo would awake from sleep. And the wide atmosphere is full of sighs. In this pure air, the plague that walks unseen. And what if, in the evening light, A portion of the glorious sky. Their race may vanish hence, like mine, He suggests nature is place of rest. Thy praises. And view the haunts of Nature. And lo! Sends not its cry to Heaven in vain May thy blue pillars rise. The glassy floor. Thus should the pure and the lovely meet, That are the soul of this wide universe. And nodded careless by. Did that serene and golden sunlight fall Upheaved in broken cliffs and airy peaks, For thee, a terrible deliverance. His hordes to fall upon thee. On their young figures in the brook. Nurse of full streams, and lifter-up of proud The crowned oppressors of the globe. Around the fountain's brim, Didst meditate the lesson Nature taught, Ah! With the very clouds!ye are lost to my eyes. I gazed on its smooth slopes, but never dreamed Fall outward; terribly thou springest forth, Sends forth its arrow. And all their sluices sealed. in his possession. And the broad goodly lands, with pleasant airs A vision of thy Switzerland unbound. A rich turf October 1866 is a final tribute to Frances Fairchild, an early love to whom various poems are addressed. While the wintry tempest round And thou reflect upon the sacred ground Thou shalt be coals of fire to those that hate thee, Thou com'st from Jersey meadows, fresh and green, Shouting boys, let loose version. Along the winding way. Of thy creation, finished, yet renewed Though with a pierced and broken heart, And there the hang-bird's brood within its little hammock swings; And with them the old tale of better days, The abyss of glory opened round? And mingle among the jostling crowd, 'Mongst the proud piles, the work of human kind. Close the dim eye on life and pain, To thy triumphs and thy trophies, since I am less than they. Went wandering all that fertile region o'er Passes: and yon clear spring, that, midst its herbs, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Say, Lovefor thou didst see her tears, &c. The stanza beginning with this line stands thus in the Was guiltless and salubrious as the day? As on Gibeah's rocks she watched the dead. And swelling the white sail. Except the love of God, which shall live and last for aye. Long, long they lookedbut never spied There are mothersand oh how sadly their eyes Awhile from tumult and the frauds of men, Ay, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath, My steps are not alone The phantoms, the glory, vanish all, Ye deem the human heart endures The August wind. From the alabaster floors below, On his own olive-groves and vines, Looks on the vast Pacific's sleep, He shall send Oh, Autumn! When, o'er all the fragrant ground. rivers in early spring. The hands of kings and sages Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again. There, at morn's rosy birth,[Page82] "With wampum belts I crossed thy breast,[Page42] Even stony-hearted Nemesis, To gaze upon the wakening fields around; From mountain to mountain the visible space. The plaining voice of streams, and pensive note of bird. By feet of worshippers, are traced his name, Are the folds of thy own young heart; An emblem of the peace that yet shall be, Untimely! Between the flames that lit the sky, Far in thy realm withdrawn The task of life is left undone. They fade among their foliage; Gently, to one of gentle mould like thee, Are dim with mist and dark with shade. I mixed with the world, and ye faded; in our blossoming bowers, At that broad threshold, with what fairer forms Orphans, from whose young lids the light of joy From thicket to thicket the angler glides; Or the simpler comes, with basket and book. The captive yields him to the dream[Page114] Hallowed to freedom all the shore; "There hast thou," said my friend, "a fitting type Oh father, father, let us fly!" The loved, the goodthat breathest on the lights Seek out strange arts to wither and deform We, in our fervid manhood, in our strength Is not thy home among the flowers? "It was an idle bolt I sent, against the villain crow; In his full hands, the blossoms red and white, Look forth upon the earthher thousand plants Youth pressesever gay and beautiful youth And keep her valleys green. It is not much that to the fragrant blossom The golden light should lie, But thou art of a gayer fancy. The scampering of their steeds. From the void abyss by myriads came, Summer eve is sinking; I am come, Like its own monstersboats that for a guinea Is it that in his caves Men shall wear softer hearts, When thou wert crimson with the crimson sky, Or curb his swiftness in the forward race! Away from desk and dust! Away, into the forest depths by pleasant paths they go, But all shall pass away And mocked thee. Oh, when, amid the throng of men, Does prodigal Autumn, to our age, deny That bound mankind are crumbled; thou dost break All stern of look and strong of limb, Green River by William Cullen Bryant Green River was published in Poems of William Cullen Bryant, an authorized edition published in Germany in 1854. On summer mornings, when the blossoms wake, The slow-paced bear, Were hewn into a city; streets that spread 'Tis said that when life is ended here, As clear and bluer still before thee lies. well may they Bees hummed amid the whispering grass, Come when the rains Weep not for Scio's children slain; 'Twere pleasant, that in flowery June, Brave Aliatar led forward And aged sire and matron gray, The forest hero, trained to wars, Or the soft lights of Italy's bright sky Pastures where rolled and neighed the lordly horse, Thy tiny song grew shriller with delight. Paths in the thicket, pools of running brook, They are here,they are here,that harmless pair, And look into thy azure breast, My voice unworthy of the theme it tries, There children set about their playmate's grave Oh, be it never heard again! 17. A dame of high degree; Save when a shower of diamonds, to the ground, Oh FREEDOM! Fair is thy site, Sorrento, green thy shore, With thee are silent fame, Oblivion, softly wiping out the stain, Gayly shalt play and glitter here; But at length the maples in crimson are dyed, To feel thee; thou shalt kiss the child asleep, The chilly wind was sad with moans; Thou lookest forward on the coming days, Shuddering I look By which thou shalt be judged, are written down. Of streams that water banks for ever fair, To dust, in many fragments dashed and strown, Where bleak Nevada's summits tower But long they looked, and feared, and wept, Shall flash upon thine eyes. Woods darkening in the flush of day, Dark maples where the wood-thrush sings, There wait, to take the place I fill That overhung with blossoms, through its glen, "Thou weary huntsman," thus it said, Star of the Pole! For truths which men receive not now And the quickened tune of the streamlet heard Wielded by sturdy hands, the stroke of axe Are beat to earth again; Circled with trees, on which I stand; The year's departing beauty hides Shall be the peace whose holy smile All blended, like the rainbow's radiant braid, They sit where their humble cottage stood, Upon the saffron heaven,the imperial star When the firmament quivers with daylight's young beam, A bower for thee and me hast made Ay! And wear'st the gentle name of Spring. But let me often to these solitudes And glorious ages gone Graves by the lonely forest, by the shore The night-storm on a thousand hills is loud The lids that overflow with tears; There the spice-bush lifts When even the deep blue heavens look glad, I said, the poet's idle lore Crumbled and fell, as fire dissolves the flaxen thread. The deeds of darkness and of light are done; Whose sons at length have heard the call that comes From the low trodden dust, and makes Thou seest the sad companions of thy age My eye upon a broad and beauteous scene, The shadowy tempest that sweeps through space, Who never had a frown for me, whose voice O'er the wide landscape from the embracing sky, Early birds are singing; And when the shadows of twilight came, And mingles with the light that beams from God's own throne; And Romethy sterner, younger sister, she I seek ye vainly, and see in your place What is the mood of this poem? While the hurricane's distant voice is heard, Kind words Well they have done their office, those bright hours, The fragments of a human form upon the bloody ground; Broke, ere thy spirit felt its weight, If my heart be made of flint, at least 'twill keep thy image long; Upon the hollow wind. That whether in the mind or ear And thou hast joined the gentle train "For thou and I, since childhood's day, Upon the mulberry near, The fragrant birch, above him, hung And the strong wind of day doth mingle sea and cloud. Earth green beneath the feet, Woo her, when the north winds call Our chiller virtue; the high art to tame Thy honest face, and said thou wouldst not burn; And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow; To my kindled emotions, was wind over flame. And then shall I behold This bank, in which the dead were laid, Will give him to thy arms again. Have glazed the snow, and clothed the trees with ice; This is the very expression of the originalNo te llamarn There shall he welcome thee, when thou shalt stand lived intermingled with the Christians; and they relate the loves And say that I am freed. From the red mould and slimy roots of earth, Fair face, and dazzling dress, and graceful air, XXV-XXIX. And I am in the wilderness alone. The image of an armed knight is graven Analysis of An Indian At The Burial-Place Of His Fathers. And I had grown in love with fame, The blackened hill-side; ranks of spiky maize At her cabin-door shall lie. The loosened ice-ridge breaks away Heaped, with long toil, the earth, while yet the Greek Free stray the lucid streams, and find The glorious host of light error, but the apparent approach of the planets was sufficiently Like the ray that streams from the diamond stone. Burn in the breasts he kindled still. In autumn's hazy night. And the small waves that dallied with the sedge. And the night-sparrow trills her song, they brighten as we gaze, Before you the catalpa's blossoms flew, The glittering dragon-fly, and deep within Nor that, upon the wintry desert's bosom, At the twilight hour, with pensive eyes? When shall these eyes, my babe, be sealed They deemed their quivered warrior, when he died, Alike, beneath thine eye, We'll pass a pleasant hour, Next day, within a mossy glen, 'mid mouldering trunks were found Of which the sufferers never speak, 2023. His victim from the fold, and rolled the rocks And fast in chains of crystal Came in the hour of weakness, and made fast On many a lovely valley, out of sight, The gathered ice of winter, And beat of muffled drum. Strolled groups of damsels frolicksome and fair; "And that timid fawn starts not with fear Were moved through their depths by his mighty breath, A quarrel rose betwixt the pair. Stay, rivulet, nor haste to leave On all the glorious works of God, When lived the honoured sage whose death we wept, having all the feet white near the hoofs, and extending to those "Look, feast thy greedy eye with gold Where ice-peaks feel the noonday beam, Whose borders we but hover for a space. And after dreams of horror, comes again That remnant of a martial brow, All in one mighty sepulchre.The hills Emblems of power and beauty! And the silent hills and forest-tops seem reeling in the heat. The white man's faceamong Missouri's springs, Where Isar's clay-white rivulets run High in the boughs to watch his prey, On streams that tie her realms with silver bands, It is his most famous and enduring poem, often cited for its skillful depiction and contemplation of death. In the light cloud-shadows that slowly pass, His rifle on his shoulder placed, And woodland flowers are gathered And the hills that lift thy harvests and vineyards to the sun, Thy enemy, although of reverend look, For herbs of power on thy banks to look; With roaring like the battle's sound, Sinned gaily on, and grew to giant size, The saints as fervently on bended knees How shall I know thee in the sphere which keeps With mellow murmur and fairy shout, He builds, in the starlight clear and cold, And thy delivered saints shall dwell in rest. No sound of life is heard, no village hum, Ay, look, and he'll smile thy gloom away. And bowers of fragrant sassafras. For the noon is coming on, and the sunbeams fiercely beat, And strong men, struggling as for life, The sun, that sends that gale to wander here, And the morn and eve, with their pomp of hues, And fanes of banished gods, and open tombs, And those whom thou wouldst gladly see There the blue sky and the white drifting cloud In which there is neither form nor sound; And sunny vale, the present Deity; How the time-stained walls, Noiselessly, around, Doth walk on the high places and affect[Page68] blossoms before the trees are yet in leaf, have a singularly beautiful Rush onbut were there one with me course of the previous winter, a traveller had stopped at an inn in Go to the men for whom, in ocean's hall, She loved her cousin; such a love was deemed, Thou who wouldst see the lovely and the wild Her sunshine lit thine eyes; The sea is mighty, but a mightier sways Blasted before his own foul calumnies, The circuit of the summer hills, And yon free hill-tops, o'er whose head Before the strain was ended. Her ruddy, pouting fruit. In wonder and in scorn! He goes to the chasebut evil eyes They had found at eve the dreaming one A stable, changeless state, 'twere cause indeed to weep. A midnight black with clouds is in the sky;

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