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 open sky, and list
To nature's teachings, while from all around-
Earth and her waters, and the depths of air-
Comes a still voice-yet a few days, and thee
The all-beholding sun shall see no more
In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,
Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears,
Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist
Thy images. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim
Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again,
And, lost each human trace, surrending up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go
To mix forever with the elements,
To be a brother to the insensible rock
And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain
Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak
Shall send his roots a broad, and pierce thy mold.
Yet not to thine eternal resting place
Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant world - with kings,
The powerful of the earth - the wise, the good,
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulcher. The hills
Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun - the vales
Stretching in pensive quietness between;
The venerable woods - rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks
That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,
Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste -
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,
The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,
Are shining on the sad abodes of death,
Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread
The globe are but a handful to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings
Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness,
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods
Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound,
Save his own dashings - yet the dead are there;
And millions in those solitudes, since first
The flight of years began, have laid them down
In their last sleep - the dead reign there alone.
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 broad of care
Plod on, and each one as before will chase
His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave
Their mirth and their employments, and shall come
And make their bed with thee. As the long train
Of ages glides away, the sons of men,
The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes
In the full strength of years, matron and maid,
The speechless 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,
Scourged 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.
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My Mother's Eulogy
She wanted me to read it at her service, but I was so choked with grief, my Aunt -- Mom's older sister and, literally, her 1st teacher -- took over and completed it. Blinded by sorrow, I couldn't receive the message then, but now -- some 23+ years later -- understand and appreciate what my Mother was trying to impart. -
I think this is a true narrative poem putting man's relationship with nature in perspective with the overall picture of continuing life, death and birth. We could avoid a lot of misery and heartache in accepting the fact that as we are laid to rest in the earth we have more companions that we could ever have had in life.
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I had to study this poem last year in American Lit, and fell in love with it. Its an amazing work of art.
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My father had to memorize this poem in grammar school, and he can still recite it at 90.
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From guest Jesse (contact)
I love this poem. In this printing, I believe line 36 has a typo.
"... hoary seen of ages past" should be "...hoary seers of ages past".
MOD MESSAGE
That seems to fit much better than seen or scene. Until we find a different printed text it has been changed. -
The title means ' view of death' and one can only imagine the insight of the 'boy' of 17 who wrote this tome`. It has an overwhelming feel of consolation and speaks of human relationshipsin a style which would make the reader doubt the age of the poet at the time.
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interesting
i love the change in narrative... -
This poem gives me so much insight into why no one is better than anyone else. Bryant says it so perfectly... "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...as the long train of ages glides away, the sons of men, the youth in life's green spring, and he who goes in the full strength of years, matron and maid, the speechless babe, and the gray-headed man - shall one by one be gathered to thy side, by those who in their turn shall follow them." Great equalizer, death is. I love this poem, and it'll stick with me forever.
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this is a brilliant poem, i love the romantic poets and writers, they wereso amazing.
moonlitmirror did a good job explaining.
i wish this guy was still around -
Bryant wrote this about death and his views of it. The part you said you didnt understand especially was when he made it seem as if nature was talking to the reader. Nature is explaining things to the reader about death and how many more are dead than alive, and its not something to fear. I hope this sorta helps you
~blessings~
~rora -
i don't really understand this poem. especially lines 45-57
can someone please helpe me??
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