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William Cullen Bryant(b.1794,d.1878)was born in Cummington, Mass. He entered Williams College at the age of sixteen, but was honorably dismissed at the end of two years. At the age of twenty-one he was admitted to the bar, and practiced his profession successfully for nine years. In 1826 he removed to New York, and became connected with the“Evening Post”—a connection which continued to the time of his death. His residence for more than thirty of the last years of his life was at Roslyn, Long Island. He visited Europe several times;and in 1849 he continued his travels into Egypt and Syria. In all his poems, Mr. Bryant exhibits a remarkable love for, and a careful study of, nature. His language, both in prose and verse, is always chaste, correct, and elegant.“Thanatopsis,”perhaps the best known of all his poems, was written when he was but nineteen. His excellent translations of the“Ilia d”and the“Odyssey”of Homer and some of his best poems, were written after he had passed the age of seventy. He retained his powers and his activity till the close of his life.
The melancholy days are come,
The saddest of the year,
Of wailing
winds, and naked woods,
And meadows brown and sear
.
Heaped in the hollows of the grove
The autumn leaves lie dead;
They rustle to the eddying gust,
And to the rabbit's tread.
The robin and the wren are flown,
And from the shrubs the jay,
And from the wood top calls the crow
Through all the gloomy day.
Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers,
That lately sprang and stood
In brighter light and softer airs,
A beauteous sisterhood?
Alas! they all are in their graves;
The gentle race of flowers
Are lying in their lowly beds
With the fair and good of ours.
The rain is falling where they lie;
But the cold November rain
Calls not from out the gloomy earth
The lovely ones again.
The windflower and the violet,
They perished long ago,
And the brier rose and the orchis died
Amid the summer's glow;
But on the hill, the golden-rod,
And the aster in the wood,
And the yellow sunflower by the brook,
In autumn beauty stood,
Till fell the frost from the clear, cold heaven,
As falls the plague on men,
And the brightness of their smile was gone
From upland, glade
,and gle
,
And now, when comes the calm, mild day,
As still such days will come,
To call the squirrel and the bee
From out their winter home;
When the sound of dropping nuts is heard,
Though all the trees are still,
And twinkle in the smoky light
The waters of the rill,
The south wind searches for the flowers
Whose fragrance late he bore,
And sighs to find them in the wood
And by the stream no more.
And then I think of one, who in
Her youthful beauty died,
The fair, meek blossom that grew up
And faded by my side.
In the cold, moist earth we laid her,
When the forest cast the leaf,
And we wept that one so lovely
Should have a life so brief;
Yet not unmeet
it was that one,
Like that young friend of ours,
So gentle and so beautiful,
Should perish with the flowers.
威廉·卡伦·布莱恩特(1794-1878),出生于美国马萨诸塞州卡明顿。十六岁时，他入读威廉姆斯学院，两年后被劝退。二十一岁时，他进入律师行，成功执业九年。1826年，迁居纽约，加盟《晚间邮报》,直到辞世。在他后半生的三十多年中，一直居住在纽约长岛的罗斯林。曾多次访问欧洲，1849年前往埃及和叙利亚旅行。他的诗歌展现出对大自然无与伦比的眷恋与细致观察。其诗歌和散文中的语言纯净、准确、优雅。《死亡观》也许是他诗歌的巅峰之作，创作于他十九岁时。优秀译作包括《伊利亚特》和《奥德赛》,以及他最优秀的一些诗歌，这些均创作于七十岁之后。他一直活力充沛，坚持创作，直至辞世。
隐晦的日子来临，
一年中最悲苦的季节。
哀号的风，光秃的林，
褐色、焦黄的草地。
拥挤在凹陷的林地，
是那死去的秋叶。
它们卷入萧瑟秋风，
堆砌于野兔窝旁。
知更鸟和鹪鹩惊飞，
松鸡也逃离灌木丛。
寒鸦在林梢叫嚣，
在晦暗日子不休。
美丽的鲜花，
最近才玉立绽放。
在习习的风中，在温柔的气息中，
美丽的姊妹花，它们哪里去了？
天啊，它们都已葬入墓地。
文质彬彬的花簇，
依然连成绵延的花塚，
带去我们美好的记忆。
小雨淅淅，扑打凋残的芳颜。
这十一月的冷雨，
难以再次唤回抑郁大地，
我们可爱的花儿。
银莲花和紫罗兰，
早已辞世许久。
野蔷薇和红门兰，
死在骄阳似火的夏日。
但山尖上的一枝黄，
丛林间的紫菀花，
溪水旁的黄色向日葵，
仍在秋风中亭亭玉立。
直到寒霜自清晰、寒冷的空中降下，
犹如鼠疫降临人间，
它们明媚的微笑走了，
自高地、沼泽和幽谷。
现在平静温暖的日子回归，
好日子终将来临。
呼唤松鼠和蜜蜂，
离开它们的冬季家园。
松果落地声传来，
尽管树木岿然不动。
晦涩中闪烁着，
溪流潺潺。
南风寻觅鲜花，
风儿曾经承载芬芳。
林中不见踪影，
溪旁难觅芳踪。
此刻我想起一位女孩，
靓丽容颜，香消玉殒。
她那美丽羞赧的鲜花成长，
并凋谢于我的身旁。
我们将她葬在寒冷潮湿的地下，
当树林抛下叶子。
我们惋惜如此美女，
为何生命如此短暂？
恰好是那一位，
我们的年轻朋友，
如此温柔，如此惊艳，
却随花一起消逝。