William Cullen Bryant

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

William Cullen Bryant Poems

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

  • 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

Best Poem of William Cullen Bryant

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 ...

Read the full of Thanatopsis

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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