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Word Gems
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William Cullen Bryant
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thanato- before vowels thanat-, word-forming element of Greek origin used in English from 19c., mostly in scientific words, and meaning "death;" from Greek thanatos "death," from PIE *dhwene- "to disappear, die," perhaps from a root meaning "dark, cloudy" (compare Sanskrit dhvantah "dark"). Hence Bryant's "Thanatopsis", with Greek opsis "a sight, view." - i.e, "a view of death"
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
The all-beholding 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 nourished thee, shall claim
Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again,
And, lost each human trace, surrendering up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go
To mix for ever with the elements,
To be a brother to the insensible rock
And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain
Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak
Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould.
Yet not to thine 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 mighty sepulchre.—The hills
Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun,—the vales
Sketching in pensive quietness between;
The venerable woods—rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks
That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,
Old ocean's gray 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 began, have laid them down
In their last sleep—the dead reign there alone.
So shalt thou rest—and what if thou withdraw
Unheeded 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 favourite phantom; 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,
And the sweet babe, and the gray-headed man,—
Shall one by one be gathered to thy side,
By those, who in their turn shall follow them.
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.
from https://www.litcharts.com/poetry/william-cullen-bryant/thanatopsis
"Thanatopsis" was written by William Cullen Bryant—probably in 1813, when the poet was just 19. It is Bryant's most famous poem and has endured in popularity due its nuanced depiction of death and its expert control of meter, syntax, imagery, and other poetic devices. The poem gives voice to the despair people feel in contemplating death, then finds peace by viewing death as a harmonious part of nature.
“Thanatopsis” Summary
To someone who loves nature, and feels a sacred relationship with all natural things that can be seen, nature seems to speak to that person in a rich and expressive language. In that person's happier moments, nature reflects that happiness as if speaking in a warm and happy voice. In those happy moments, the natural world seems to smile, and all its sounds are like poetry. When this person is sad, nature flows into his bleak thoughts, offering a gentle feeling of understanding. This understanding takes away the pain of those bleak thoughts before the person even realizes it. Sometimes this person starts of think angrily about the moment of death, and such thoughts hurt their soul like a disease. They picture the depressing image of their final, painful moments, and the cloth their body will be wrapped in, and the blanket draped over their coffin. Then they imagine what it's like to be buried in total darkness, unable to breathe, in that claustrophobic container. These thoughts will make you shiver, and feel incredibly unhappy. When that happens, you should go out under the sky and listen to nature's wisdom. All around you, from the ground and the water and the air, there will come a calming voice.
In a few days, the sun (who sees everything) won't see you anymore, no matter where he is in the sky. Not even in the cold dirt, where your pale body was buried (while all your loved ones cried), and not even in the hug of the ocean, will it be possible to find your face anymore. The earth, which fed you, will take back your full-grown body. You'll become part of the earth again. Having lost all trace of being human, and giving up being an individual person, you'll mix with the natural elements for the rest of time. You'll be the sibling of unthinking stones and lazy little lumps of dirt, which farmers unearth with their plows and walk on. An oak tree will grow roots that travel a great distance underground, poking through your body.
However, you won't go alone to your place of eternal sleep, nor could you ask for a more impressive bed. You'll lie down with the earliest rulers of human history—with kings, the most powerful people on earth—and with wise people, virtuous people, beautiful people, and the white-haired prophets of ancient times, all in one magnificent tomb. Hills lined with rocks like rib cages, old as the sun; valleys arcing in thoughtful silence between those hills; the old, respectable woods; rivers the flow with grace and dignity; the chattering little streams that keep fields green; and, flowing around all of these, the ancient ocean's sad and colorless emptiness—all these things are only cheerless decorations on a tomb that contains all of humankind. The yellow sun, the planets, and the endless stars in the sky are all glowing over the bleak homes of death. They have been doing this for all time, as if nothing's changed. Everyone that walks on the earth is only a small fraction of all the people sleeping in the earth's chest. Fly on wings of morning light, fly through the desert's massive sand dunes; or lose yourself in the unending woods where the Oregon river flows, and can't hear anything except its own splashing—the dead are in all these places too. Millions of them are in those lonely places. Since history began, people have been lying down to their final rest. The dead rule the realm of dead, where there are only dead people. And so you too will have your final rest. So what if you die without a word, and no one, not even your friends, notice that you're gone? All people who live and breathe have the same fate—to die. The happy will continue to be happy and laugh when you are gone. The serious and worried people will continue to trudge on through life. And people, as always, will continue to pursue whatever illusions seem to give their lives meanings. But all these people will have to leave their joys and their tasks, because they will die and rest with you in the earth. Historical periods pass like a train going off into the distance. Future generations; young people at the beginning of life like green stems; people at the height of their powers; mothers and virgins; infants who can't speak; and old white-haired men—all these people will be buried next to you, one at a time, by people who will also die.
So live your life in such a way that—when you are called to join that endless train of dead people on its way to the unknown realm of the dead (where each person gets their own room in the silent buildings of death)—you don't go like a rock-mining slave who is sent to a dungeon. Instead, you should be fulfilled and calmed by an unwavering faith. This will let you go into death like someone wrapping themselves in blankets on their bed, lying down to sweet dreams.
“Thanatopsis” Themes
Theme The Inevitability of Death
The Inevitability of Death
To put it bluntly, “Thanatopsis” is about death. The word thanatopsis itself derives from the Greek roots thanatos (death) and opsis (sight). In other words, the poem always has death in its sights. One of the speaker’s main goals seems simply to make death—and its inevitability—vivid for the poem’s readers. The poem hammers home the fact that death comes for everyone, and voices the despair that such knowledge can cause.
The speaker begins by describing an idyllic scene, in which the natural world itself seems to reflect a person's joyful state of mind. Suddenly, though, frightening thoughts of death intrude on this peace "like a blight"—or disease—over "thy spirit." These "thoughts / Of the last bitter hour," of the moments immediately before death, will cause anyone to “shudder, and grow sick at heart." In other words, thoughts of death can come on suddenly and are extremely disturbing. What's more, these thoughts are unavoidable; the speaker doesn't say "if" such thoughts come, but rather "when."
As if this weren't dark enough, in the second stanza the speaker strikes an even bleaker note, saying that the reader is going to die soon: “Yet a few days, and thee / The all-beholding sun shall see no more,” the speaker says, meaning the sun won’t shine on the addressee because they’ll be buried in the earth. Continuing with this vivid description, the speaker next invites the reader to imagine their body decomposing: “The oak / Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould.” In other words, the dead body will turn into dirt, through which different plants’ roots will grow.
Next, to underscore that this fate awaits us all, the speaker reflects on all the people who have already died. The speaker frames this discussion by describing the realm of the dead. First, the speaker makes clear just how big this realm is. The dead outnumber the living: “All that tread / The globe are but a handful to the tribes / That slumber in its bosom.” When someone dies, they join an enormous realm that will exist for all eternity.
All people throughout history end up with the dead, from “patriarchs of the infant world” to those who have yet to be born. No one escapes death, not “the kings, / The powerful of the earth—the wise, the good,” nor “matron and maid, / The speechless babe, and the gray-headed man.” The realm of the dead is a crowded place indeed, underscoring the poem's point that death comes for everyone.
The speaker also reminds the reader that none of the joys of living can continue in the realm of the dead. Everyone, eventually, must “leave / Their mirths and their enjoyments.” Human emotions and sensations—the speaker seems to say—don’t exist beyond the grave. The poem thus summons the immensity, strangeness, and scariness of death, impressing the weight of mortality upon the reader. It's a dark take, to be sure, but the speaker isn't necessarily trying to make readers feel bad. Instead, the poem seeks to acknowledge the sharp pang of dread that accompanies thoughts of death, without turning away. That is, the poem pushes its readers to actually think about the process of dying because such understanding is the first step towards making peace with death (more on that in this guide's discussion of "Finding Peace in Death and Nature").
Theme The Unity of Nature
The Unity of Nature
In the speaker’s vision of death, nature plays a central role. Instead of dealing with abstract entities like God, angels, souls, or Heaven, the speaker focuses on the physical objects that make up the mortal world—think: dirt, rivers, trees. In doing so, the speaker suggests that human beings aren’t all that different from these physical things—that each dead person is “brother to the insensible rock / And to the sluggish clod.” Though this comparison might seem glib or frightening at first, the poem ultimately suggests that death reveals the essential unity of nature—in which humans, rocks, and rivers are all connected.
The poem imagines the process of death and decomposition as a loss of humanity and individuality. The dead are no longer people in the normal sense of the word; dying entails the loss of "each human trace," as well as "surrendering up / Thine individual being [...] To mix for ever with the elements." Instead, the dead become a part of nature, a part of the “elements” that allow other things to grow.
And although people cherish having a mind, the dead, having mixed "with the elements," have no more use for minds. Instead, the dead are more like “the insensible rock” and “sluggish clod,” things that don’t have brains or cultures in any human sense. All in all, this transformation suggests that people aren’t separate from nature. In fact, as the word “brother” implies, all natural things are connected, as if nature were a giant family.
In keeping with this idea, as the speaker begins to consider all the people who have already died, the natural world becomes like an ornate tomb. Because all the dead ultimately return to the ground, the speaker views the earth itself as "one mighty sepulchre"—that is, as a giant crypt. Seen in this light, the beautiful elements of nature, like rivers and meadows, "Are but the solemn decorations all / For the great tomb of man." Rather than seeing death as an unfortunate side effect of nature, here the speaker metaphorically suggests that the whole point of the natural world is to house people after they die. Again, this idea emphasizes the essential unity of nature, suggesting that death is a crucial ingredient in the cosmic order. All living things come from the earth, and thus must return to it when they die.
Theme Finding Peace in Death and Nature
Finding Peace in Death and Nature
Ultimately, the speaker ties together the poem’s interest in mortality and the unity of nature, arguing that people must find peace in death. Because death is inevitable, it is better to face it with dignity and serenity rather than despair. Both by bringing the natural world to life and by listing all the sorts of people who have already faced death, the speaker envisions death as part of the universe’s harmonious order. People should have an “unfaltering trust” in death, viewing it as a destiny, rather than a curse.
At the beginning of the poem, the speaker describes how nature both reflects human feelings and can act as a source of wisdom. More specifically, the speaker describes a “love of Nature” that leads to “communion.” In other words, people who deeply appreciate nature enter into a sacred relationship with it. For such people, nature “speaks / A various language.” This language varies with the observer’s mood, so that the natural landscape often seems to mirror how people are feeling.
Additionally, nature doesn’t just capture people’s feelings; it also helps people find peace and understanding. The speaker says that if one is ever feeling despair (such as the fear of death), one should “Go forth, under the open sky, and list / To Nature’s teachings.” Looking up at the night sky can bring a sense of calm, as if nature is providing wisdom for how to face death with serenity.
Just as nature can seem like a companion to the lonely, the dead are also companions. The speaker treats the realm of the dead as a glorious community where everyone is equal. The realm of the dead contains both “the powerful of the earth” and “the speechless babe.” Everyone ends up here. As the speaker emphasizes, when someone dies, they are clearly do not “retire alone.” Since being around other people is so important for humans, this sense of community may help alleviate the anxiety around death.
Furthermore, the speaker emphasizes all the impressive people that a dead person shall be surrounded by: “the wise, the good / Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past.” It’s as if death is a giant hall of fame. For this reason, one could not “wish / Couch more magnificent.” In other words, the realm of the dead is basically the most spectacular place you could end up. Normal people are elevated to the same stature as kings, in a manner that makes death more magnificent, not less.
At the end of the poem, the speaker urges both dignity and trust in nature. One shouldn’t approach death with fear, but instead as a source of serenity. The speaker urges the reader to “go not like the quarry-slave, at night, / Scourged to his dungeon,” when it is time to die. In other words, the dying shouldn’t perceive death as a terrible injustice or punishment. Instead, the dying should be “sustained and soothed / By an unfaltering trust.” Just as nature can sooth people’s despair, the speaker here suggests that it’s important to trust in death as a natural phenomenon. It’s not a punishment, but rather a harmonious—even good—part of life.
Death, according to speaker, should be thought of as “wrapping the drapery of [one’s] couch” around oneself, before drifting off to “pleasant dreams.” That is, death is a like a warm blanket, a final and soothing state of rest after all the turbulence of life. Thus, for those who can see the harmony of nature, there is nothing to fear in death.
Line-by-Line Explanation & Analysis of “Thanatopsis”
Lines 1-5
"Thanatopsis" is a poetic meditation on human beings' relationship with death. The title comes from the Greek roots thanatos (death) and opsis (sight). In other words, the poem is literally about looking at death. This wasn't Bryant's original title for the poem (he didn't have one, in fact), but rather was added by the editors who first published the poem. These editors were so impressed by the poem they couldn't disbelieve that an American could have written it! This impressive sounding title captures some of that feeling. It lets the reader know that this is going to be a lofty-sounding poem, one whose rhetoric is reminiscent of earlier European masterpieces.
The poem begins by discussing the relationship between an individual "him" (i.e., anyone) and "Nature." The speaker references the ability for people to have a sacred relationship with nature:
[...] him who in the love of Nature holds
Communion with her visible forms
"Communion" is a term with Christian overtones. Most broadly, it suggests a relationship between God and the faithful. The most concrete example is when Christians consume the "body and blood" of Christ in the form of bread and wine. Here, however, there are none of the trappings of church. Instead, the speaker suggests that one can achieve a similar kind of grace simply looking by at nature. This is a form of "love."
Throughout the history of Christianity, some theologians have claimed that God is immanent in nature, making nature itself holy. That is, God is directly present in the physical world, even part of that world, rather than removed in Heaven. The speaker seems to be suggesting something similar here. This places Bryant at the start of a line of American writers, such as Ralph Waldo Emerson, who depicted the relationship between people and nature as divine (a movement called American Romanticism, or Transcendentalism).
Romantic writers, both English and American, have also emphasized how nature seems to both reflect and modify peoples feelings. That's exactly what the speaker depicts here. Nature "speaks / A various language." This personification of nature as a speaking "she" captures the sense of communion mentioned earlier—it's as if nature responds to her observers, like one friend to another. The speaking is, of course, metaphorical. For people looking at nature, the sights it offers are like responses to their feelings. And it's always just the right response. During someone's "gayer hours," that is, moments of happiness, nature seems to join in that happiness like a good friend: "She has a voice of gladness."
Furthermore, nature doesn't just mirror happiness, it also adds "a smile / And eloquence of beauty." One reason for "the love of Nature" is that nature always enriches people's experiences. Throughout the poem, the speaker will use natural imagery to enrich the reader's understanding of death.
Notice that all of this is written in the third-person ("him"). The speaker never comes out and speaks in the first-person "I." This has two, almost paradoxical effects. On one hand, instruction manuals employ a similar strategy, so that the poem can be thought of instructions for thinking about death. On the other hand, the "I" is implied. There's no "I" because it's as if the reader is inside the speaker's head, listening to the speaker's thoughts. People don't need to say "I" in their own heads! Either way, the poem has the effect of enveloping both speaker and reader in an engrossing line of thought.
The beginning of the poem also establishes the poem's meter, which will remain consistent through. This meter is iambic pentameter, or five da-DUM feet per line:
To him | who in | the love | of Na- | ture holds
The first line begins with this crystal-clear meter, which the speaker will vary dexterously throughout the poem. These line are also unrhymed, making them blank verse.
“Thanatopsis” Symbols
Symbol Rocks and Dirt
Rocks and Dirt
In "Thanatopsis," rocks and dirt symbolize the humble beginnings and ends of all life, capturing how the earth is both the source of all life and the place that things return to when they die.
Nature plays a central role in the poem. It provides a sense of unity and peace to those who know how to look at it. The earth is the source of all living things. Soil—rocks and dirt, "the elements"—is the basic matter of that source. Plants grow from the dirt, and humans eat those plants, or use them to build shelter, to feed their animals, or to produce medicine. Then when people die, they are buried in the ground and eventually decompose into dirt. In turn, then, they help nourish the next generation of humans.
Humble dirt, then, is the core of life "Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim / Thy growth be resolved to earth again." At the same time, however, the speaker emphasizes that dirt is neither alive nor dead, by referring to the personified "insensible rock" and "the sluggish clod." These things are unconscious, immobile—one step above being totally dead, one step below being completely alive. Dirt, then, is a kind of limbo. It takes the dead and produces life. A dead person is "brother" to the rock and clod, suggesting that dirt, the ground, is a kind of family.
Taken all together, this symbolism suggests the unity of nature begins with the things under people's feet: rocks, clods, dirt.
Symbol Celestial Objects
Celestial Objects
Celestial objects (objects in space, like the sun, moon, planets, and stars) symbolize the stillness of eternity, which contrasts with the fleeting nature of human life. These celestial objects look down on the world as a place of death.
In lines 46-49, the speaker says:
[...] 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.
In these lines, the speaker imagines the world as seen from the perspective of "the infinite host of heaven," i.e., all the stars in the sky. These stars see earth as full of "the sad abodes of death." That is, earth as seen from outside looks like a giant graveyard.
Keep in mind that this poem was written before humans had ever photographed the world from outer space. Readers at the time didn't have a clear image of what the planet looked like. But that only makes the imaginative leap of these lines all the more striking. The speaker imagines that in outer space, time barely seems to pass. The stars have been up there for eons, and they will be there for eons more. What for humans are ages—one historical period after another—to these stars just look "still." Human life, so brief, can barely be perceived by the stars. Instead, only death, which is eternal appears to them.
This perspective plays an important role in the poem, because the speaker wants readers to think on a vast scale. Rather than just considering their own lives, readers should imagine "the still lapse of ages," and understand that death is a fundamental part of the cosmos.
“Thanatopsis” Poetic Devices & Figurative Language
Alliteration
Throughout "Thanatopsis," alliteration contributes to the poem's eloquence and helps its elaborate sentences hang together.
For instance, in the poem's first sentence, which is eight lines long, /h/ and /v/ alliteration immediately signals to the reader that this is going to be a highly lyrical poem. That is, it's not a poem that tries to mimic everyday speech. Instead, it strives for the most beautiful, interesting, and intricate formulations. So, the first line goes:
To him who in the love of Nature holds
The three /h/ sounds add a sense of cohesion to the phrase's unusual syntax, so that the end of the line calls back to the beginning.
Similarly, the /v/ sounds in the next three lines link three keys ideas, "visible forms," "various language" and "voice of gladness":
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
various language; for his gayer hours
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile
Though somewhat distant from each other, these repeated /v/ sounds clearly link these ideas, emphasizing how the sentence stretches out as it follows a train of thought. Taken all together, this repetition emphasizes nature's visibility, variety, and voice.
Sometimes, alliteration acts on a smaller level, making individual phrases more vivid. For instance, "Rock-ribbed" in line 39 has rocky, repeating /r/ sounds that suggest the repeating rib-like stones in the hills. Five lines later, "Old Ocean" conjures the elderly, personified ocean. It's repeating /o/ sounds might almost be cute, if the ocean weren't also a "gray and melancholy waste." Instead, the alliteration suggests the orneriness of "Ocean" as a figure.
In lines 49-53, alliteration acts almost like rhyme. End words begin with same sound: "tread," and "tribes" in lines 59-50; "wings," "wilderness," and "woods" in 51-53. This stretch of sounds helps add variety to the very long third stanza. Furthermore, like rhyme, it links words together. It is the "tribes" who "tread" over the earth, and morning's "wings" help one fly through the "wilderness" and "woods." The sentence that begins in line 51 doesn't end till line 58, so these rhyme-like alliterations helps add a sense of order to an otherwise tangled sentence.
In lines 56-57, a quick succession of /s/ and /f/ sounds captures the swift passing of time:
[...] in those solitudes, since first
the flight of years began
Coupled with the steep enjambment, this quickness helps summon the "flight of years," as if the words themselves are about to zoom off the page.
Throughout the poem, then, alliteration adds to the language's vividness and sense of order.
“Thanatopsis” Vocabulary
Thanatopsis Communion Forms Various Language Gayer Musings Sympathy Ere Blight Thy Shroud Pall Narrow House Thee All-Beholding Course Image Thou Elements Insensible Sluggish clod Rude swain Share Abroad Couldst Patriarch Infant world Hoary seers Sepulchre Rock-ribbed Vales Venerable Complaining Brooks Waste Host of Heaven Abodes Lapse Barcan Rolls Oregon Dashings Solitudes Laid them down Brood of Care Phantom Mirth Employments Train Matron Maid Summons Caravan Chamber Quarry-slave Scourge Unfaltering Drapery
Thanatopsis comes from the Greek words thanatos, meaning "death," and opsis, meaning "sight." In other words, thanatopsis is the act of looking at death, of meditating on it. As it turns out, it wasn't Bryant who came up with the title, but rather one of the editors who first published Bryant's originally untitled poem.
Form, Meter, & Rhyme Scheme of “Thanatopsis”
Form
"Thanatopsis" is written in blank verse, or unrhymed iambic pentameter (meaning it follows a da-DUM rhythm). Additionally, the poem employs a lot of enjambment and caesurae. These devices, paired with the poem's long sentences, create a winding, elaborate form of language. The lines seem to spool down the page, mimicking the speaker's train of thought.
As with many blank verse poems, "Thanatopsis" is divided into stanzas called verse paragraphs. Rather than all being the same length, these stanzas act much like paragraphs in prose, dividing up the speaker's text into manageable chunks. There are four verse paragraphs, each introducing a particular idea and line of thinking.
The first stanza discusses people's relationship with nature, particularly thinking about how nature affects people's emotions. The second stanza imagines what happens when people die and become part of nature. The third stanza, the longest, takes in the whole history of human death, emphasizing how the earth will be full of the human dead for all of time. And the fourth stanza, the shortest, provides a moral—it offers a way for facing death with dignity and faith.
Meter
"Thanatopsis" is written in iambic pentameter, which means there are five poetic feet per line, each with a da-DUM rhythm. The poem is also unrhymed, making this blank verse as well. This meter, coupled with the poem's extensive use of enjambment, provides the main sense of order and cohesion in the poem.
The poem begins with a straightforward example of iambic pentameter:
To him | who in | the love | of Na- | ture holds
Beginning in this clear manner, the poem immediately signals that it should be read in iambic pentameter. It also signals that the speaker has strong control over the meter. Now, the reader knows, if the speaker does deviate from the meter in the future, it will be purposeful rather than accidental.
The iambic pentameter remains pretty steady throughout the poem. Sometimes, the speaker replaces the first iamb with a trochee (DUM-da), as in line 30:
Turns with | his share, | and treads | upon. | The oak
Here, the reversed stresses of the first foot capture the "Turn[ing]" that line describes. Just as a farmer plowing a field has to reverse direction to plow a new row, the meter also reverses itself.
Other times, the speaker replaces the first iamb with a spondee (DUM-DUM). This happens in both lines 37 and 39:
Fair forms, | and hoar- | y seers | of a- | ges past
And:
Rock-ribbed | and an- | cient as | the sun,— | the vales
The meters of both of these lines mirror each other. Not only do both begin with a spondee, but both spondees also alliterate ("Fair forms" and "Rock-ribbed"). The stresses accentuate these phrases.
Often, regular iambs work together with syntax and caesurae to heighten the emphasis on certain words. For instance, the word "but" in line 79 falls on a normal iambic stress:
Scourged to | his dun- | geon, but, | sustained | and soothed
The two caesurae that surround "but" draw further attention to the natural stress it receives. This "but" comes at a crucial moment in the poem, marking the point at which the speaker transitions into the moral of the poem—how people should act in the face of death. It's a climactic moment, and the stress, combined with syntax and caesura, helps deliver that climax.
Throughout the poem, then, meter works in tandem with other devices to provide a crucial sense of order and rhetorical height.
Rhyme Scheme
"Thanatopsis" doesn't rhyme. As an instance of heavily enjambed blank verse, it instead relies on the twists and turns of long, iambic sentences. Normally, rhyme emphasizes the ending words of lines. It creates a pause, encouraging to the reader to view each line as a kind of unit. The verse of "Thanatopsis," however, works in the opposite manner. Sentences spiral across line breaks, picking up speed and encouraging the reader to view lines as interconnected parts. The speaker uses these long, strung-together lines to capture the rhythms of thought and to show off some lofty rhetoric.
“Thanatopsis” Speaker
The speaker of "Thanatopsis" is unidentified. Curiously, the speaker never uses the first-person "I." Rather, the speaker uses the second-person "thou" (a poetic form of the word "you") as the center of attention. This seemingly addresses the reader, so that everything that happens in the poem happens to the reader.
The boldest use of the second person comes at the beginning of the second stanza:
Yet a few days, and thee
The all-beholding sun shall see no more
In all his course
In other words, "In a few days you are going to die," the speaker seems to say to the reader. The speaker goes on to talk about how the reader will be buried in the earth and decompose, so that no trace of them remains.
By placing the reader at the center of the poem, the speaker conveys one of the poem's central themes: death comes for everyone. It makes this theme that much more urgent for the reader—knowing that the speaker isn't just talking about anyone dying, the speaker is talking about the reader dying.
On one hand, then, the speaker seems to a kind of disembodied voice of wisdom, as if this were a kind of moral or philosophical text. Thought of this way, the speaker seems to take a back seat, while the addressee remains front and center. On the other hand, the poem can be interpreted as a very intimate record of the speaker's thoughts, as if the speaker is talking to themself. In this interpretation, all the twists and turns of the poem's elaborate syntax capture the texture of the speaker's thought process.
“Thanatopsis” Setting
While "Thanatopsis" doesn't have a single clear setting, it makes extensive use of natural imagery. In some sense, the entire earth itself could be thought of as the poem's setting. From rocks and dirt, to magnificent forests and oceans, everything on the planet is related to death in some way. The speaker uses these facets of the natural landscape to think about humanity's relationship with death.
Early in the poem, the speaker urges the reader to "Go forth, under the open sky." This suggests that the great outdoors is the best place for doing the kind of thinking that poem will demand. People can't adequately contemplate death just lying around in their bedrooms, the speaker seems to say. They have to go out and face it in the natural world.
As the poem progresses, its scope increases more and more. The speaker isn't bound to one location, but rather wants to take in the whole world. "Take the wings / Of morning," urges the speaker. In other words, the speaker tells the reader to imagine soaring over the earth to "pierce the Barcan wilderness, / Or lose thyself in the continuous woods." The speaker also summons images of "hills / Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun," as well as valleys and "rivers that move / In majesty." Death is present in all of these places, asserts the speaker.
The speaker doesn't limit the setting to the surface of the earth, either. Imagining what happens to someone when they die, the speaker pictures a body decomposing underground: "The oak / Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould." A person's body gets split apart as roots pass through it. Sometimes, the speaker takes a more metaphorical approach to the world underground, describing how each dead person receives "His chamber in the silent halls of death." Since human beings don't know what it's like to decompose and become a part of the earth, the speaker employs this figurative image, picturing the realm of the dead as a vast mansion, fulls of hallways and bedrooms.
Furthermore, the speaker also imagines earth as seen by the objects in the sky. For instance, when someone dies, the "all-beholding sun" can no longer see them. And to the stars in the sky—"the infinite host of heaven"—earth is full of "the sad abodes of death." Earth, as seen from outer space, is clearly a tomb, says the speaker.
Thus, the speaker's sense of setting gives a 360 degree view of the earth, all through the lens of death.
Literary and Historical Context of “Thanatopsis”
Literary Context
William Cullen Bryant wrote "Thanatopsis" sometime between 1811 and 1813, when he was 17-19 years old. His father found it among Bryant's papers and submitted it, along with other poems, to a publisher in Boston. The publishers couldn't believe that an American had written such a poem. They agreed to publish Bryant's work, giving it the title "Thanatopsis," meaning "meditation on death."
As the publisher's reaction suggests, "Thanatopsis" was an unprecedented literary event. Many regard "Thanatopsis" as the beginning of American poetry. That said, it's interesting that the poem draws heavily on older, European poetry, particularly from England. That's one of the reasons it was hard for the publishers to believe this was an American poem.
What were Bryant's English models for this poem? Well, one set of influences was the Graveyard Poets, a group of English and Scottish writers who meditated extensively on death. One famous example is Robert Blair's "The Grave." Like Bryant, Blair writes in blank verse full of vivid imagery.
Another influence was William Wordsworth. Wordsworth was part of the first generation of English Romantic poets. He pioneered a meditative form of blank verse (influenced in turn by the Renaissance poet John Milton). Wordsworth was especially concerned with depicting how people relate to nature, capturing the intimate twists and turns of thought as a speaker comes to terms with their place in the world.
Combining Blair's depiction of death with Wordsworth's gift for introspection, and learning from each poet's command of blank verse, Bryant crafted a distinct voice in "Thanatopsis." Although the poem predates the American Romantic movement known as Transcendentalism, it contains many of the themes that movement would address. Writers like Henry David Thoreau and Ralph Waldo Emerson were especially concerned with how Americans related to nature. Just as in "Thanatopsis" Bryant addresses nature rather than God, these later writers depicted nature as a divine entity.
Thus, Bryant's poem can be seen as bridging English and American writing, inaugurating a new kind of American poetry and paving the way for Romanticism in America.
Historical Context
Bryant grew up in Puritan Massachusetts at the end of the 18th century. As such, it's helpful to compare the poetic ideas in "Thanatopsis" to Puritan ideas about God and nature. For the puritans, it would have been heretical to replace God with nature in the manner that Bryant does in this poem. The same goes for Bryant's treatment of the afterlife. That is, "Thanatopsis" doesn't seem to believe in the afterlife in any Christian sense of the term. Perhaps predictably, then, Bryant struggled to find a place in the Puritan communities of Massachusetts. His law practice eked along, and finally in 1825 he moved to New York City to pursue a career in journalism.
When Bryant wrote "Thanatopsis," America had been an independent nation for just over 30 years. The Lewis and Clark Expedition ended only five years before Bryant wrote "Thanatopsis." Although the poem is predominantly focused on death, the physical reality of America pervades the poem's imagery. The country seemed to be getting bigger every year. The Pacific Northwest, which Lewis and Clark explored, even makes an appearance: "in the continuous woods / Where rolls the Oregon." The poem's interest in nature can be seen as part of the growing national consciousness of American nature, of what it means to live in such a large and naturally bountiful country.
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