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William Cullen Bryant (Уильям Каллен Брайант)


Life


Oh Life! I breathe thee in the breeze,
    I feel thee bounding in my veins,
I see thee in these stretching trees,
    These flowers, this still rock's mossy stains.

This stream of odours flowing by
    From clover-field and clumps of pine,
This music, thrilling all the sky,
    From all the morning birds, are thine.

Thou fill'st with joy this little one,
    That leaps and shouts beside me here,
Where Isar's clay-white rivulets run
    Through the dark woods like frighted deer.

Ah! must thy mighty breath, that wakes
    Insect and bird, and flower and tree,
From the low trodden dust, and makes
    Their daily gladness, pass from me—

Pass, pulse by pulse, till o'er the ground
    These limbs, now strong, shall creep with pain,
And this fair world of sight and sound
    Seem fading into night again?

The things, oh LIFE! thou quickenest, all
    Strive upwards toward the broad bright sky,
Upward and outward, and they fall
    Back to earth's bosom when they die.

All that have borne the touch of death,
    All that shall live, lie mingled there,
Beneath that veil of bloom and breath,
    That living zone 'twixt earth and air.

There lies my chamber dark and still,
    The atoms trampled by my feet,
There wait, to take the place I fill
    In the sweet air and sunshine sweet.

Well, I have had my turn, have been
    Raised from the darkness of the clod,
And for a glorious moment seen
    The brightness of the skirts of God;

And knew the light within my breast,
    Though wavering oftentimes and dim,
The power, the will, that never rest,
    And cannot die, were all from him.

Dear child! I know that thou wilt grieve
    To see me taken from thy love,
Wilt seek my grave at Sabbath eve,
    And weep, and scatter flowers above.

Thy little heart will soon be healed,
    And being shall be bliss, till thou
To younger forms of life must yield
    The place thou fill'st with beauty now.

When we descend to dust again,
    Where will the final dwelling be
Of Thought and all its memories then,
    My love for thee, and thine for me?



William Cullen Bryant's other poems:
  1. “Blessed Are They That Mourn”
  2. Rizpah
  3. A Scene on the Banks of the Hudson
  4. The Hunter of the Prairies
  5. The Damsel of Peru


Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):

  • Samuel Coleridge (Сэмюэл Кольридж) Life ("As late I journey'd o'er the extensive plain")
  • Charlotte Brontё (Шарлотта Бронте) Life ("LIFE, believe, is not a dream")
  • Abraham Cowley (Абрахам Каули) Life ("Life's a name")
  • Anna Barbauld (Анна-Летиция Барбо) Life ("Life! I Know Not What Thou Art")
  • Bryan Procter (Брайан Проктер) Life ("WE are born; we laugh; we weep")
  • Francis Bacon (Фрэнсис Бэкон) Life ("THE world's a bubble, and the life of man")
  • Florence Coates (Флоренс Коутс) Life ("Before we knew thee thou wert with us; ay")
  • Paul Dunbar (Пол Данбар) Life ("A crust of bread and a corner to sleep in")
  • James Johnson (Джеймс Джонсон) Life ("Out of the infinite sea of eternity")
  • Henry Van Dyke (Генри Ван Дайк) Life ("LET me but live my life from year to year")
  • Jones Very (Джонс Вери) Life ("IT is not life upon Thy gifts to live")
  • Edith Wharton (Эдит Уортон) Life ("LIFE, like a marble block, is given to all")
  • Mary Robinson (Мэри Робинсон) Life ("”What is this world?­thy school, O misery!")
  • Abram Ryan (Абрам Райан) Life ("A baby played with the surplice sleeve")

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