.

In the history of literature there are occasionally noted the names of
some distinguished writers whose best remembered work was accomplished at
the very beginning of their careers. One remarkable illustration is found
in the poem "Thanatopsis," which was composed by William Cullen Bryant
(1794-1878) when he was but seventeen years of age.

His father found the poem in his son's desk, together with the manuscript
of "The Waterfowl," and was so affected by the discovery of verse so
unusual that he hastened to the house of a neighbor, thrust the
manuscripts into his hand, and then burst into tears as he exclaimed:

"Oh, read that. It is Cullen's!"

"Thanatopsis" was taken by Dr. Bryant to the editor of the newly
established _North American Review_; but this gentleman and the friends to
whom he showed it were at first unwilling to believe that an American
could have written so fine a poem. It was, however, published (in 1817);
yet even then, and for a long time after, most persons credited it to Dr.
Bryant rather than to his son.

The importance of "Thanatopsis" is at once literary and historical. It is
in reality the first original note ever sounded in American poetry. Until
that time Americans had merely imitated whatever style of writing happened
to be current in England. Bryant, however, attained spontaneous
self-expression and distinct individuality. He drew a direct inspiration
from Nature itself; and his lines were vivified by the imagination that is
unforced. The publication of "Thanatopsis," therefore, is now held to mark
the date at which the national literature of America begins.

THANATOPSIS.

BY 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 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