William Cullen Bryant
With eyes suffused and heart dissolved with sorrow,
How often have I fled the realms of sleep,
And sought, not vainly, from thy page to borrow
That which forbids or eye or heart to weep!
Thy Thanatopsis! fraught with tenderest feeling,
Is like a June breeze to the ice-bound heart;
To us, thy humble followers, revealing
The sage, the seer, the poet that thou art,
Still roll "The Ages," still "Green River" flows,
And odorous blossoms load the "Apple Tree,"--
Into "The Lake" still fall the fleecy snows,
And Nature everywhere doth speak of thee.
Oh, for a poet's tongue to name thy name!
But does it matter? Thine is deathless fame.
With eyes suffused and heart dissolved with sorrow,
How often have I fled the realms of sleep,
And sought, not vainly, from thy page to borrow
That which forbids or eye or heart to weep!
Thy Thanatopsis! fraught with tenderest feeling,
Is like a June breeze to the ice-bound heart;
To us, thy humble followers, revealing
The sage, the seer, the poet that thou art,
Still roll "The Ages," still "Green River" flows,
And odorous blossoms load the "Apple Tree,"--
Into "The Lake" still fall the fleecy snows,
And Nature everywhere doth speak of thee.
Oh, for a poet's tongue to name thy name!
But does it matter? Thine is deathless fame.