The Portland daily press., 1894-08-17
IN MEMORY OF BRYANT.
Interesting Exercises in Honor of the
Poet at His Old Home.

Cummington, August 16.-Pleasant
skies, and the presence of distinguished
speakers and poets, together with the
desire TO do honor to the memory of
William CULLEN Bryant, have drawn
hundreds of visitors to this little town
today, and the centennial observance of
the plrth OF the great poet has been a
complete success. For this the towns
people are profoundly grateful. for they
have been preparing for the event since
last March.
The exercises today were held in
DeautlIul grove, a few rods beyond the
stead that Mr.. Bryant passed the last
twelve summers of his life, and here
that he spent the days of his youth and
young manhood. 1t was in these woods
tha6 i hanatopsisn was written, and the
rlvuiet OF which he wrote still goes muir
murlng TO the larger stream as 1T did
in the days of his boyhood.
The exercises today consisted of an
address of welcome by Lorenzo H. Tow
er, the Librarian of the Bryant Library,
on behalf OF the townspeople, and then
Parke Goodwin of New York, who was
associated with Mr.. Bryant for many
years, and who married mis- eldest
daughter, was made the presiding Off
Ger.
Mr.. Goodwin introduced Edwin r.
Byron of Elmwood, ILL.,. native of
Cummington, and the orator of the day.
Mr.. Brown ,spoke eloquently and his
address occupied something over an hour
in delivery.
JOHN HOWARD BRYANT'S POEMS.
John Howard Bryant, now 81 years old,
the only survi wing brother Of the poet,
and himself poet of recognized abil-
ity, read his brothers. poem of The
Rivulet," and followed it with two
compositions of his own, the first being
"A Monody," written in 1878, just after
the death of William Cullen Bryant, and
fhe second AT Eighty-seven, written
for the occasion. Below is the latter
poem:
AT EIGHTY-SEVEN.
Alone, alone why wait here,
When al most loved nave passed away;
Parents and wife and children dear,
Brothers and sisters where are they?
Gone to the boundless silent past
And will that past return again,
Restore its conquestS wide and vast,
Or is this yearnlng hope IN vain?
Know not and cannot know:
1 only know mighty wave,
ResistleSs In its onward flow,
Sweeps all things living to the grave,
No voice from that reluctant sphere
Or whisper of the stilly night
Fer falls upon my waiting ear,
Nor faintest shadow meets my sight,
Still, hope eternal looks away
Beyond the darkness of the tomb,
Where friends departed meet, or stray
Through bowers 7, f light'sand JOY and bloom.
Though thus beredt, life still is sweet;
All nature doth her promisedill;
The wild flowers blossom at my feet;
These glorious heavens are round me still.
The changing seasons come and go,
Full haryests ripen on the plain,
The autumn woods resume their glow,
And winter SHOWS return again.
Alone, said; oh, not alone.
FOR loving friends still wait around,
Sweet voices yet of silvery tone
Greet my dull ear with grateful sound.
Goodness and mercy day by day.
From birth unto the pI eSent hour,
Have followed me or led the way
The guidance of almighty power.
And now, amid the fading light
With faltering steps, journey on,
Waiting the coming of the night
When earthly light and life are gone.
And shall there rise brighter day
Beyond this scene of calm and strife,
Where love and peace shall rule for aye,
And goodness be the rule of life?
lean on the Almighty arm,
The Good. the Mercfful and just
His love and care all fears dlsarm;
On His unchanging law rest.