Thanatopsis
William Cullen Bryant
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 dark musings, with a mild
And gentle 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-belonging 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 image. Earth, that nourish thee, shall claim
Thy growth, to be resolv\'d to earth again;
And, lost each human trace, surrend\'ring up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go
To mix forever with the elements,
To be a brother to th\'insensible rock
And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain
Turns with his share, and trends upon. The oak
Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould.
Yet not to thy 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 might sepulcher. --The hills
Rock-ribb\'d 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 pour\'d round all,
Old ocean\'s grey 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--and the Barcan desert pierce,
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods
Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound,
Save his own dashings--yet--the dead are there,
And millions in those solitudes, since first
The flight of years begin, have laid them down
In their last sleep--the dead reign there alone.--
So shalt thou rest--and what if thou shalt fall
Unnoticed by 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 brood of care
Plod on, and each one as before will chase
His favorite fathom; 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 glide 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 bow\'d with age, the infant in the smiles
And beauty of its innocent age cut off,--
Shall one by one gather to thy side,
By those, who in their turn shall follow them.
So live, that when thy summons come to join
The innumerable caravan, that moves
To the pale realms of shade, 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 sustain\'d and smooth\'d
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
解析：
这首诗是一首关于死亡的诗。作者在诗中写出了他对于死亡的观点：这并不是一件可怕的事。作者用自然去安抚人们对于死亡的恐惧。山河是你的眠床，星辰是你的衣裳。你不必恐惧，所有人终究都会和你在那里相遇。那里有不知世事的孩童，有世上最有权力的国王。那里是世人最终的归属。所以人啊，不要带着恐惧入睡，你将会做一场美梦。
梦远书城已将原网页转码以便移动设备浏览
本站仅提供资源搜索服务，不存放任何实质内容。如有侵权内容请联系搜狗，源资源删除后本站的链接将自动失效。
推荐阅读