The poems about nature reflect a man given to studious contemplation and observation of his subject. All is silent, save the faint And interrupted murmur of the bee, Settling on the sick flowers, and then again Instantly on the wing. The American poet and newspaper editor William Cullen Bryant 1794-1878 helped introduce European romanticism into American poetry. Happy days to them That wed this evening! Everyone from the Philadelphia Eagles organization was in attendance for the actual building of our new playground. To make access easier to the Library from the Homestead, Bryant paid for a road that later became part of Route 112. Fair scenes shall greet thee where thou goest--fair, But different--everywhere the trace of men, Paths, homes, graves, ruins, from the lowest glen To where life shrinks from the fierce Alpine air, Gaze on them, till the tears shall dim thy sight, But keep that earlier, wilder image bright. He looked at art as something demanding time and reflection, something not afforded to him on his travels or by his work at the paper.
The new playground includes such features as a Sprint turf, play structure, stamped concrete with custom mosaic tables for playing chess and checkers. O Father, may that holy star Grow every year more bright, And send its glorious beams afar To fill the world with light. Some, famine-struck, shall think how long The cold dark hours, how slow the light, And some, who flaunt amid the throng, Shall hide in dens of shame to-night. Haply some solitary fugitive, Lurking in marsh and forest, till the sense Of desolation and of fear became Bitterer than death, yielded himself to die. Go--but the circle of eternal change, Which is the life of nature, shall restore, With sounds and scents from all thy mighty range Thee to thy birthplace of the deep once more; Sweet odours in the sea-air, sweet and strange, Shall tell the home-sick mariner of the shore; And, listening to thy murmur, he shall deem He hears the rustling leaf and running stream. Across the length of an expansive career, Bryant returned to a number of recurring motifs that themes serve the summarize the subjects he felt most capable of creating this emotional stimulation.
All that breathe Will share thy destiny. The best one-volume edition of the poems is Henry C. Early Life William Cullen Bryant was born on November 3, 1794, in Cummington, Massachusetts to Peter Bryant and Sarah Snell. He completed his law education at age 21 and was subsequently admitted to the bar in 1815. His fame was so widespread that the centennial of his birth in 1894 drew thousands of people to the Homestead to celebrate his life and accomplishments. Talk not of the light and the living green! And soon that toil shall end; Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest, And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend, Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest.
About William Cullen Bryant Homestead From its iconic red barn to elegant allee of maples leading to the main house, this lovely property is testament to a celebrated poet's ideal of living mindfully on the land. From 1816 to 1825 he practiced law in Great Barrington, Mass. The faint old man shall lean his silver head To feel thee; thou shalt kiss the child asleep, And dry the moistened curls that overspread His temples, while his breathing grows more deep: And they who stand about the sick man's bed, Shall joy to listen to thy distant sweep, And softly part his curtains to allow Thy visit, grateful to his burning brow. The red man, too, Has left the blooming wilds he ranged so long, And, nearer to the Rocky Mountains, sought A wilder hunting-ground. I'll be as idle as the air.
When beechen buds begin to swell, And woods the blue-bird's warble know, The yellow violet's modest bell Peeps from the last year's leaves below. For thou dost feed the roots of the wild vine That trails all over it, and to the twigs Ties fast her clusters. Clarifications were made later, and the poem was attributed to Bryant, and his subsequent poems began to appear in the Review. He championed the freedoms of others, and fought against corruption. Who of this crowd to-night shall tread The dance till daylight gleam again? Thus still, whene'er the good and just Close the dim eye on life and pain, Heaven watches o'er their sleeping dust Till the pure spirit comes again.
He also built a road to West Cummington from the Homestead that is still in use today. His newest poem of that period, The Ages, resulted from delivering the Phi Beta Kappa poem at the Harvard commencement. Vainly that ray of brightness from above, That shone around the Galilean lake, The light of hope, the leading star of love, Struggled, the darkness of that day to break; Even its own faithless guardians strove to slake, In fogs of earth, the pure immortal flame; And priestly hands, for Jesus' blessed sake, Were red with blood, and charity became, In that stern war of forms, a mockery and a name. Fitting floor For this magnificent temple of the sky-- With flowers whose glory and whose multitude Rival the constellations! Modest and shy as a nun is she; One weak chirp is her only note; Braggart, and prince of braggarts is he, Pouring boasts from his little throat, Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink, Never was I afraid of man, Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can. She is not at the door, nor yet in the bower; He calls--but he only hears on the flower The hum of the laden bee. In short, as we have seen, he didn't publish enough. Enough of drought has parched the year, and scared The land with dread of famine.
While he would make more money as a journalist, his output of poetry was greatly reduced thus directly reducing his placement in literary history according to critics. He is regarded as falling somewhat short of his potential. Again the wildered fancy dreams Of spouting fountains, frozen as they rose, And fixed, with all their branching jets, in air, And all their sluices sealed. Go, rock the little wood-bird in his nest, Curl the still waters, bright with stars, and rouse The wide old wood from his majestic rest, Summoning from the innumerable boughs The strange, deep harmonies that haunt his breast: Pleasant shall be thy way where meekly bows The shutting flower, and darkling waters pass, And where the o'ershadowing branches sweep the grass. In pastures, measureless as air, The bison is my noble game; The bounding elk, whose antlers tear The branches, falls before my aim. The earth was sown with early flowers, The heavens were blue and bright-- I met a youthful cavalier As lovely as the light.
To the north, a path Conducts you up the narrow battlement. Why so slow, Gentle and voluble spirit of the air? William Cullen Bryant, born November 3, 1794, astonished the literary world with the publication of his first major poem at age 13. Man hath no part in all this glorious work: The hand that built the firmament hath heaved And smoothed these verdant swells, and sown their slopes With herbage, planted them with island groves, And hedged them round with forests. In yonder mingling lights There is an omen of good days for thee. The time has been that these wild solitudes, Yet beautiful as wild, were trod by me Oftener than now; and when the ills of life Had chafed my spirit--when the unsteady pulse Beat with strange flutterings--I would wander forth And seek the woods. When shrieked The bleak November winds, and smote the woods, And the brown fields were herbless, and the shades, That met above the merry rivulet, Were spoiled, I sought, I loved them still,--they seemed Like old companions in adversity.
In 1866, after the death of his wife, Bryant resumed translating the Iliad and subsequently the Odyssey. His father was a doctor and later served as a state legislature. And some to happy homes repair, Where children, pressing cheek to cheek, With mute caresses shall declare The tenderness they cannot speak. While there, William Cullen Bryant was employed by New York Review as an editor in 1825. We are thankful of their contributions and encourage you to make your own. The plants around Feel the too potent fervours: the tall maize Rolls up its long green leaves; the clover droops Its tender foliage, and declines its blooms. There is who heeds, who holds them all, In his large love and boundless thought.
He became assistant editor to the New York Evening Post, after giving up the drudgery of practicing law. About the cliffs Lay garlands, ears of maize, and shaggy skins Of wolf and bear, the offerings of the tribe Here made to the Great Spirit, for they deemed, Like worshippers of the elder time, that God Doth walk on the high places and affect The earth-o'erlooking mountains. The crescent moon and crimson eve Shone with a mingling light; The deer, upon the grassy mead, Was feeding full in sight. Presidential family connections include Ulysses S. Well may the gazer deem that when, Worn with the struggle and the strife, And heart-sick at the wrongs of men, The good forsakes the scene of life; Like this deep quiet that, awhile, Lingers the lovely landscape o'er, Shall be the peace whose holy smile Welcomes him to a happier shore. There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower, There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree, There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower, And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea.