William Cullen Bryant

(November 3, 1794 – June 12, 1878 / Boston)

William Cullen Bryant Poems

1. Robert Of Lincoln 5/21/2015
2. Among The Trees 3/27/2015
3. The Wind And Stream 2/9/2015
4. The Planting Of The Apple-Tree 12/24/2014
5. The Old Man's Counsel 4/5/2010
6. The Maiden's Sorrow 4/5/2010
7. The Massacre At Scio 4/5/2010
8. The Return Of Youth 4/5/2010
9. The Past 4/5/2010
10. The Knight's Epitaph 4/5/2010
11. The Twenty-Second Of December 4/5/2010
12. The Siesta 4/5/2010
13. Song Of The Greek Amazon 4/5/2010
14. The Child's Funeral 4/5/2010
15. The Conqueror’s Grave 4/5/2010
16. The Painted Cup 4/5/2010
17. Song From The Spanish Of Iglesias 4/5/2010
18. The Arctic Lover 4/5/2010
19. The Damsel Of Peru 4/5/2010
20. The Indian Girl's Lament 4/5/2010
21. The Death Of Aliatar 4/5/2010
22. The Burial Place 4/5/2010
23. The Death Of Schiller 4/5/2010
24. The Hunter Of The Prairies 4/5/2010
25. The Two Graves 4/5/2010
26. Romero 4/5/2010
27. Ode For An Agricultural Celebration 4/5/2010
28. Sonnet From The Portuguese Of Semedo 4/5/2010
29. No Man Knoweth His Sepulchre 4/5/2010
30. The Battle-Field 4/5/2010
31. In Memory Of John Lothrop Motley 4/5/2010
32. The Hunter's Serenade 4/5/2010
33. Noon 4/5/2010
34. Lines On Revisiting The Country 4/5/2010
35. Song 4/5/2010
36. When The Firmament Quivers With Daylight's Young Beam 4/5/2010
37. To The Apennines 4/5/2010
38. To The River Arve 4/5/2010
39. The Stream Of Life 4/5/2010
40. The Serenade 4/5/2010

Comments about William Cullen Bryant

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  • Codee (5/10/2018 4:14:00 PM)

    It is a creole asking

    4 person liked.
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  • stine (4/28/2018 7:32:00 PM)

    tell me not a mournful number, life is but a empty dream, for the soul is dead that slumbers and life is not what it seems

    5 person liked.
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Best Poem of William Cullen Bryant

To A Waterfowl

Whither, midst falling dew,
While glow the heavens with the last steps of day
Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue
Thy solitary way?

Vainly the fowler's eye
Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong
As, darkly seen against the crimson sky,
Thy figure floats along.

Seek'st thou the plashy brink
Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide,
Or where the rocking billows rise and sing
On the chafed ocean side?

There is a Power whose care
Teaches thy way along that pathless coast--
The desert and illimitable air-- ...

Read the full of To A Waterfowl

The Strange Lady

The summer morn is bright and fresh, the birds are darting by,
As if they loved to breast the breeze that sweeps the cool dear sky;
Young Albert, in the forest's edge, has heard a rustling sound
An arrow slightly strikes his hand and falls upon the ground.

A lovely woman from the wood comes suddenly in sight;
Her merry eye is full and black, her cheek is brown and bright;
She wears a tunic of the blue, her belt with beads is strung,
And yet she speaks in gentle tones, and in the

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