William Cullen Bryant

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

William Cullen Bryant Poems

121. Inscription For The Entrance To A Wood 1/3/2003
122. To A Cloud 12/31/2002
123. A Dream 4/5/2010
124. Love And Folly 12/31/2002
125. Hymn To Death 12/31/2002
126. Mutation 1/3/2003
127. October 12/31/2002
128. The Yellow Violet 1/3/2003
129. A Song For New Year's Eve 12/5/2011
130. A Presentiment 4/5/2010
131. Constellations, The 12/31/2002
132. The Gladness Of Nature 1/3/2003
133. After A Tempest 1/3/2003
134. A Winter Piece 4/5/2010
135. November 12/31/2002
136. A Northern Legend 4/5/2010
137. Summer Wind 1/3/2003
138. A Forest Hymn 1/3/2003
139. The Death Of The Flowers 1/3/2003
140. To A Waterfowl 1/3/2003
141. Consumption 1/3/2003
142. Thanatopsis 5/13/2001

Comments about William Cullen Bryant

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  • Codee (5/10/2018 4:14:00 PM)

    It is a creole asking

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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

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Best Poem of William Cullen Bryant

A Forest Hymn

The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave,
And spread the roof above them,---ere he framed
The lofty vault, to gather and roll back
The sound of anthems; in the darkling wood,
Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down,
And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks
And supplication. For his simple heart
Might not resist the sacred influences,
Which, from the stilly twilight of the place,
And from the gray old trunks that high in heaven
Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound
Of the invisible...

Read the full of A Forest Hymn

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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