Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1878-07-10
TIIANATOPSIs.
By WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT,

70 him Who Ia tho love Of nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
4 various language for his gayer hours
she has voice Of gladness, and a smile
And eloquenee OF BEAUTY, and she glldea
Into his darker musings. with mild
And healing sympsthy, that steals away
Their sharpness, GRO ho ID aware, whel
thoughts
OF tho last bitter hour coma like blight
Over thy spirit, aud sad images
OF The stern agony, and ahroud,and pail,
Aud bieathless darkness, and tho narrow
house,
Make thee TO ehudder. and grow sick at heart
Go forth, under tho open sky. and list
10 nat tures teachings. while from all around
Earth and her waters, and tho depths Of air.
Comes q still yoIce--Yet few days. and thee
The all.bohOldlng sun shall 800 no more
In all his course nor yet in tho cold ground.
Who're thy pale form was laid, with many tears
Nor In tho embrace Of ocean, shall exist
Thy image, Earth, that nourshed thee, shall
claim
Thy growth, TO DO resolved 10 Garth again,
Aud lost, each human trace, surrenderipg up
Thine Individual being, shalt thou 80
70 mix forever with tho elements,
To DO q brother to tho insonsble rock
Aud to the sluggish clod, which tho rude swain
Turns with his share aud treada upon. The oak
Shall send his roots abroad, aud pierce thy
mould.
Yot not to thine eternal resting place
Shalt thou retire alone, nor co uldst thou wish
Couch moro magnificent, Thou shalt lo down
With patriarchs Of tho infant world-wth
kings,
The powerful OF the earth the wise, the good, 4,
Fair forms and hoary soors OF ages past,
All in one mighty scpuchrO. The hills
Rock-rlbbcd and ancient as the sun-tho Wales
Stretching in quiet pcnsivencss between
The venerable woods-rivers that movo
In majesty, and tho complaining brooks
That mako the meadows green and, poured
around all,
Old oceans gray and melancholy waste
Are but tho solemn decorations oil
OF the great tomb Of man. The golden sun,
The planets, all tho infinite host Of heaven
Arc shining on the sad abodes Of death
Through tho still lapse Of ages. All that tread
The globe arc but handful to tho tribes
That slumbor IN its bosom Take tho wings
or morning, traverse l'arcas desert sands,
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods
Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound
Save his own dashing-yet-the dead arc
And millions in those solitudes, since first
Tho flight of years began. have laid them
down
In their last sleep-the dead reign there alono.
So shalt thou rest. and what if thou withdraw
In silence from the living, and no friend
Take note of thy departure All that breathe
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh
When thou art gone, the solemn brood Of care
Plod on, and each one as before will chase
His favor!te phantom yet all these shall leave
Their mirth and their employments, and shall
como
And mako their bed with thee. AS the long
train
OF ages glide away. the SONS Of men,
The youth in lifes green spring, and no who
goes
In the full strength of years, matron, and maid
And the sweet babe, and the gray-headed man,
Shall one by one be gathered to thy side,
BY those, who IN their turn shall follow them,
So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan, which moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall
take
His chamber in the silent halls Of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night,
scou1ged to his dungeon, but, sustained and
soothed
BY an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him and lies down to pleasant dreams.