William Cullen Bryant (November 3, 1794 – June 12, 1878) was an American romantic poet, journalist, and long-time editor of the New York Evening Post.
Read more about William Cullen Bryant: Youth and Education, Poetry, Editorial Career, Later Years, Critical Response, Legacy, Further Reading
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“Thy early smile has stayed my walk;
But midst the gorgeous blooms of May,
I passed thee on thy humble stalk.”
—William Cullen Bryant (1794–1878)
“So they, who climb to wealth, forget
The friends in darker fortunes tried.
I copied them—but I regret
That I should ape the ways of pride.”
—William Cullen Bryant (1794–1878)
“So live that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan that 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.”
—William Cullen Bryant (1794–1878)
“Summer wanes; the children are grown;
Fun and frolic no more he knows;”
—William Cullen Bryant (1794–1878)