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Updated: June 15, 2025
Vida said you might come." "Oh. You went to the Thanatopsis. Did you enjoy it?" "So much. Such good papers on the poets." Carol lied resolutely. "But I did think they should have had you give one of the papers on poetry!"
"I know. You just meant it. Go on. Be good for my soul. Isn't it funny: here we all are me trying to be good for Gopher Prairie's soul, and Gopher Prairie trying to be good for my soul. What are my other sins?" "Oh, there's plenty of them. You see, these things really are coming! The Thanatopsis is getting somewhere.
Bryant in his seat in the Senate, said, 'It is a good head, but I do not see Thanatopsis in it." Bryant is never thought of as a humorist, and his poetry is devoid of playfulness. But in this letter to his mother, in which he announces his marriage with Frances Fairchild, we have evidence that Bryant had a strong sense of humor.
It does not do the cows much good, but it is very good exercise for a boy farmer. It improves a boy's elocution a great deal more than driving oxen. It is a fact, also, that if a boy repeats "Thanatopsis" while he is milking, that operation acquires a certain dignity.
Is there never any contentment, never any rest?" She shook her head as though she were shaking off water, and hastened into the library, a young, light, amiable presence, modest in unbuttoned fur coat, blue suit, fresh organdy collar, and tan boots roughened from scuffling snow. Miss Villets stared at her, and Carol purred, "I was so sorry not to see you at the Thanatopsis yesterday.
Here is the first glimpse of Bryant, the great William Cullen Bryant, who as a mere boy had penned the beautiful "Thanatopsis." It is of the date of April 20, 1831.
Carol did not recover her zeal till two days after, when she tried Mrs. George Edwin Mott, wife of the superintendent of schools. Mrs. Mott commented, "Personally, I am terribly busy with dressmaking and having the seamstress in the house and all, but it would be splendid to have the other members of the Thanatopsis take up the question.
She considered how many of the three thousand people in the town she did not know; to how many of them the Thanatopsis and the Jolly Seventeen were icy social peaks; how many of them might be toiling through boredom thicker than her own with greater courage. She examined her nails. She read two hymns. She got some satisfaction out of rubbing an itching knuckle.
This is the place where Dante Gabriel and a young man named Holman Hunt had a studio, and where another young artist by the name of William Morris came to visit them; and here was born "The Germ," that queer little chipmunk magazine in which first appeared "Hand and Soul" and "The Blessed Damozel," written by Dante Gabriel when eighteen, the same age at which Bryant wrote "Thanatopsis."
In our little American world of letters at that time he came and conquered. Bryant's "Thanatopsis", had been published only two years before; Halleck's and Drake's lively but strictly local "Croakers" were still appearing, and Edward Everett had just hailed Percival's first volume as authorizing great expectations. But prophecy is always dangerous.
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