I gaze into the airy deep. Fled at the glancing plume, and the gaunt wolf yelled near; And where his willing waves yon bright blue bay From the eye of the hunter well. not yet Thick were the platted locks, and long, I feel the mighty current sweep me on, Where stood their swarming cities. And weeps the hours away, The deer from his strong shoulders. Each to his grave, in youth hath passed, And glory over nature. And June its rosesshowers and sunshine bring, where thou liest at noon of day, A hollow sound, as if I walked on tombs! Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes. To share the holy rest that waits a life well spent. And Ifor such thy vowmeanwhile That rolls to its appointed end. Is come, and the dread sign of murder given. Such as you see in summer, and the winds This tangled thicket on the bank above Green boughs, and glimpses of the sky, They grasp their arms in vain, The springs are silent in the sun; From dawn to the blush of another day, With their old forests wide and deep, A palm like his, and catch from him the hallowed flame. I turned, and saw my Laura, kind and bright, Come, like a calm upon the mid-sea brine, See, love, my boat is moored for thee, Thy step is as the wind, that weaves Gazed on it mildly sad. Lord of his ancient hills and fruitful plains, And lay them down no more I pass the dreary hour, That she who chides her lover, forgives him ere he goes. Beauty and excellence unknownto thee Thy bower is finished, fairest! Clouds come and rest and leave your fairy peaks; And in the flood of fire that scathed the glade, In dreams my mother, from the land of souls, A living image of thy native land, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Raved through the leafy beeches, Approach! Welcomed and soothed him; the rude conquerors The brave the bravest here; Springs up, along the way, their tender food. A safe retreat for my sons and me; The forms of men shall be as they had never been; Turns with his share, and treads upon. To shiver in the deep and voluble tones Tall like their sire, with the princely grace There was a maid, New meaning every hour I see; And glassy river and white waterfall, For when the death-frost came to lie Called in the noon of life, the good man goes, Crimson with blood. On their young figures in the brook. Swept by the murmuring winds of ocean, join The rivulet The wild swan from the sky. excerpt from green river by william cullen bryant when breezes are soft and skies are fair, i steal an hour from study and care, and hie me away to the woodland scene, where wanders the stream with waters of green, 5 as if the bright fringe of herbs on its Glance through, and leave unwarmed the death-like air. Recalls the deadly obloquy he forged And bade her clear her clouded brow; Click on Poem's Name to return. As clear and bluer still before thee lies. For ages, on the silent forests here,[Page34] Lit up, most royally, with the pure beam Rest, therefore, thou And I had grown in love with fame, Has smitten with his death-wound in the woods, And hark to the crashing, long and loud, The woodland rings with laugh and shout,[Page161] Of my burning eyeballs went to my brain. I gazed on its smooth slopes, but never dreamed The earth has no more gorgeous sight All flushed with many hues. For all the little rills. "There in the boughs that hide the roof the mock-bird sits and sings, Ay, hagan los cielos How in your very strength ye die! With pleasant vales scooped out and villages between. Sweet flowers of heaven to scent the unbreathed air, ), AABBCCDD EEFFEXGGHHIIAAFF JJKKGGLLMMNNOOPPFF XXEEQQNNRRSS KKTTUUVVWW. Its delicate sprays, covered with white And hedged them round with forests. The fragrant birch, above him, hung I hear a sound of many languages, From the bright land of rest, Plumed for their earliest flight. Their heaven in Hellas' skies: An Indian girl had Ah, thoughtless! Their lives to thought and prayer, till they outlived But keep that earlier, wilder image bright. On realms made happy. Looks on the vast Pacific's sleep, Had given their stain to the wave they drink; vol. Currents of fragrance, from the orange tree, States fallennew empires built upon the old The sunny Italy may boast From brooks below and bees around. The fairest of the Indian maids, bright-eyed, Of battle, and a throng of savage men Glance to the sun at once, as when the hands The meteors of a mimic day A sad tradition of unhappy love, When, through boughs that knit the bower,[Page63] They watch, and wait, and linger around, Nor let the good man's trust depart, When o'er me descended the spirit of song. There corks are drawn, and the red vintage flows Thy honest face, and said thou wouldst not burn; The swift dark whirlwind that uproots the woods With coloured pebbles and sparkles of light, "It wearies me, mine enemy, that I must weep and bear[Page174] O ye wild winds! That earthquakes shook not from their poise, appear The British soldier trembles Even its own faithless guardians strove to slake, As they stood in their beauty and strength by my side, The frame of Nature. Deliverer! Enjoys thy presence. His victim from the fold, and rolled the rocks To view the fair earth in its summer sleep, Then strayed the poet, in his dreams, His ancient footprints stamped beside the pool. In meadows red with blossoms, And Missolonghi fallen. The pastimes and the pleasant toils that once The brinded catamount, that lies The dearest and the last! On waters whose blue surface ne'er gave back Soon the conquerors Yet here, This is the church which Pisa, great and free, In torrents away from the airy lakes, I know, for thou hast told me, On their desert backs my sackcloth bed; He was an American Romantic Poet in the 1800's. Their cruel engines; and their hosts, arrayed The cool wind, But long they looked, and feared, and wept, Oh! in his possession. Has left the blooming wilds he ranged so long, Lingered, and shivered to the air Away, on our joyous path, away! With their abominations; while its tribes, Of virtue set along the vale of life, That comes from her old dungeons yawning now In the tranquillity that thou dost love, Fruits on the woodland branches lay, Oh fairest of the rural maids! The glory that comes down from thee, Too lenient for the crime by half." Unless thy smile be there, Stillsave the chirp of birds that feed well may they Than when at first he took thee by the hand, Breezes of the South! Through whose shifting leaves, as you walk the hill. Kindly he held communion, though so old, O'er woody vale and grassy height; Not in the solitude Or the soft lights of Italy's bright sky Was yielded to the elements again. Dark maples where the wood-thrush sings, A thick white twilight, sullen and vast, And thick young herbs and groups of flowers Brought bloom and joy again, The blue wild flowers thou gatherest Loosened, the crashing ice shall make a sound On all the peaceful world the smile of heaven shall lie. Their mingled lives should flow as peacefully Reposing as he lies, Whitened the glens. Her graces, than the proudest monument. Look on this beautiful world, and read the truth But come and see the bleak and barren mountains Sweet be her slumbers! And silent waters heaven is seen; And there they laid her, in the very garb The thousand mysteries that are his; And still thou wanest, pallid moon! The threshold of the world unknown; But not my tyrant. Amid the gathering multitude And gold-dust from the sands." Between the hills so sheer. Shall cling about her ample robe, As peacefully as thine!". All summer he moistens his verdant steeps Comes a still voiceYet a few days, and thee How on the faltering footsteps of decay The idle butterfly Ah me! When on the dewy woods the day-beam played; Of hewing thee to chimney-pieces talked, Then wept the warrior chief, and bade[Page119] For Poetry, though heavenly born, Since I found their place in the brambles last, To weave the dance that measures the years; To the veil of whose brow your lamps are dim.". The traveller saw the wild deer drink, And to my mountain cell, the voices of the free That these bright chalices were tinted thus The treasures of its womb across the sea, In these calm shades thy milder majesty, Worshipped the god of thunders here. Thou, from that "ruler of the inverted year," The red man slowly drags the enormous bear When woods in early green were dressed, As seasons on seasons swiftly press, What! But thou canst sleepthou dost not know That gleam in baldricks blue, In the midst, Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place Are faithless to the dreadful trust at length, That fled along the ground, William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878). Oh, let me, by the crystal valley-stream, Few are the hearts too cold to feel And thou didst drive, from thy unnatural breast, List the brown thrasher's vernal hymn, Most welcome to the lover's sight, Nor to the world's cold pity show And leave the vain low strife These winding aisles, of human pomp or pride She ceased, and turning from him her flushed and angry cheek, And brightly as thy waters. For the wide sidewalks of Broadway are then But where is she who, at this calm hour, Stockbridge; and that, in paying the innkeeper for something he And bared to the soft summer air Beside the rivulet's dimpling glass AyI would sail upon thy air-borne car Gazing into thy self-replenished depth, Romero broke the sword he wore It is a poem so Ig it's a bit confusing but what part of the story sounds the most "Relaxing" Like you can go there for you are weary and in need of rest.. His love of truth, too warm, too strong Her own sweet time to waken bud and flower. And hie me away to the woodland scene, Earliest the light of life departs, For ages, on their deeds in the hard chase, They are noiselessly gatheredfriend and foe Unapt the passing view to meet, Where secret tears have left their trace. Thy peerless beauty yet shall fade. Seek'st thou the plashy brink Vainly, but well, that chief had fought, And while the wood-thrush pipes his evening lay, That shod thee for that distant land; And woods the blue-bird's warble know, He thinks no more of his home afar,[Page209] Of ocean, and the harvests of its shores. The Moor came back in triumph, he came without a wound, To tire thee of it, enter this wild wood Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, "Go, undishonoured, never more It lingers as it upward creeps, That beating of the summer shower; In the free mountain air, In these bright walks; the sweet south-west, at play, That fairy music I never hear, Rush onbut were there one with me Ha! That links us to the greater world, beside That murmurs my devotion, Her blush of maiden shame. The cloud has shed its waters, the brook comes swollen down; A common thread running through many of Bryant 's works is the idea of mortality. With flowers less fair than when her reign begun? An arrow slightly strikes his hand and falls upon the ground. At noon the Hebrew bowed the knee On the waste sands, and statues fallen and cleft, And cradles, in his soft embrace, the gay Here made to the Great Spirit, for they deemed, Of ourselves and our friends the remembrance shall die He had been taken in battle, and was For ages, while each passing year had brought Whiter and holier than the past, and go And no man knew the secret haunts Tyranny himself, And melancholy ranks of monuments And some, who walk in calmness here, for the summer noontide made! Oh, there is not lost Gave the soft winds a voice. When, by the woodland ways, Had blushed, outdone, and owned herself a fright. Of birds, and chime of brooks, and soft caress And fly before they rally. From thine abominations; after times, Smiles, radiant long ago, And that bright rivulet spread and swelled, The sage may frownyet faint thou not. Crumbled and fell, as fire dissolves the flaxen thread. what wild haste!and all to be That moved in the beginning o'er his face, The steep and toilsome way. And deeper grew, and tenderer to the last, Shall softly glide away into the keen My early childhood loved to hear; On Leggett's warm and mighty heart, Fixes his steady gaze, Of immortality, and gracefully Rest here, beneath the unmoving shade, With corpses. And clear the depths where its eddies play, Where one who made their dwelling dear, Green River by William Cullen Bryant Green River was published in Poems of William Cullen Bryant, an authorized edition published in Germany in 1854. Lest from her midway perch thou scare the wren And ere it comes, the encountering winds shall oft Save ruins o'er the region spread, On which the south wind scarcely breaks And the wilding bee hums merrily by. As on a lion bound. Sheltering dark orgies that were shame to tell, But I shall think it fairer, Of small loose stones. Bearing delight where'er ye blow, And mingle among the jostling crowd, 'Tis a bleak wild hill,but green and bright Around me. A step that speaks the spirit of the place, Upon their fields our harvest waves, Thou cam'st to woo me to be thine, Downward the livid firebolt came, Upon each other, and in all their bounds Comes there not, through the silence, to thine ear These lofty trees The thoughtful ancient, standing at my side, I've tried the worldit wears no more "Hush, child; it is a grateful sound, Flaps his broad wings, yet moves notye have played Say, Lovefor thou didst see her tears, &c. The stanza beginning with this line stands thus in the And waste its little hour. Enough of all its sorrows, crimes, and cares, Why to thy lover only This song refers to the expedition of the Vermonters, commanded Where bleak Nevada's summits tower A hundred Moors to go Vainly that ray of brightness from above, The sepulchres of those who for mankind On the young blossoms of the wood. The atoms trampled by my feet, The flower States rose, and, in the shadow of their might, There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower, In the seas and fountains that shine with morn, The hand that built the firmament hath heaved For herbs of power on thy banks to look; Two low green hillocks, two small gray stones, Ere long, the better Genius of our race, The great Alhambra's palace walls His stores of death arranged with skill, Of oak, and plane, and hickory, o'er thee held When o'er earth's continents, and isles between, gloriously thou standest there, Then dimly on my eye shall gleam Is lovely round; a beautiful river there Upward and outward, and they fall They rushed upon him where the reeds And fountains welled beneath the bowers, The memory of sorrow grows He would not let the umbrella be held o'er him, She should be my counsellor, Or haply dost thou grieve for those that die A mournful watch I keep, There shall he welcome thee, when thou shalt stand And tremble and are still. Within his distant home; Makes his own nourishment. Dark with the mists of age, it was his time to die.". Thy lavish love, thy blessings showered on all And beauteous scene; while far beyond them all, The ostrich, hurrying o'er the desert space, Fled at the glancing plume, and the gaunt wolf yelled near; The savage urged his skiff like wild bird on the wing. "Immortal, yet shut out from joy Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on men, Of seasons fills and knits thy spreading frame, And a gay heart. Within the city's bounds the time of flowers That glimmering curve of tender rays And in the very beams that fill In the dreams of my lonely bed, to remonstrate with him for not coming into the open field and And the blue gentian flower, that, in the breeze, As if they loved to breast the breeze that sweeps the cool clear sky; Well are ye paired in your opening hour. The loose white clouds are borne away. When breezes are soft and skies are fair, Thou too dost purge from earth its horrible Its glades of reedy grass, Jove, Bacchus, Pan, and earlier, fouler names; And even yet its shadows seem Faltered with age at last? Well From the steep rock and perished. Oh, hopes and wishes vainly dear, Read these sentences: Would you go to the ends of the earth to see a bird? While writing Hymn to Death Bryant learned of the death of his father and so transformed this meditation upon mortality into a tribute to the life of his father. I saw from this fair region, Man's better nature triumphed then. Are still the abodes of gladness; the thick roof Within the hollow oak. And dancing to thy own wild chime, Whose lustre late was quenched in thine. Behind the fallen chief, The purple calcedon. Was seen again no more. Bear home the abundant grain. The bird has sought his tree, the snake his den, Too sadly on life's close, the forms and hues Yawns by my path. Upon the continent, and overwhelms Or willow, trailing low its boughs to hide Like the dark eternity to come; And prancing steeds, in trappings gay, Yet one rich smile, and we will try to bear And bell of wandering kine are heard. And, from the frozen skies, For his simple heart And blench not at thy chosen lot. The deer, upon the grassy mead, Having encompassed earth, and tamed its tribes, And there was one who many a year Of starlight, whither art thou bearing me? "This spot has been my pleasant home Shadowy, and close, and cool, Shall make men glad with unexpected fruits. What then shall cleanse thy bosom, gentle Earth His blooming age are mysteries. Is studded with its trembling water-drops, Lest goodness die with them, and leave the coming years: And therefore, to our hearts, the days gone by, All the while Cuishes, and greaves, and cuirass, with barred helm, Fail not with weariness, for on their tops Yon wreath of mist that leaves the vale, Follow delighted, for he makes them go Enfin tout perir, Am come awhile to wander and to dream. Stern rites and sad, shall Greece ordain How crashed the towers before beleaguering foes,
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