to the time of his death.  For more than thirty of the last years of his life, Mr. Bryant made his home near Roslyn, Long Island, where he occupied an “old-time mansion,” which he bought, fitted up, and surrounded in accordance with his excellent rural taste.  A poem of his, written at the age of ten years, was published in the “County Gazette,” and two poems of considerable length were published in book form, when the author was only fourteen.  “Thanatopsis,” perhaps the best known of all his poems, was written when he was but nineteen.  But, notwithstanding his precocity, his powers continued to a remarkable age.  His, excellent translations of the “Iliad” and the “Odyssey,” together with some of his best poems, were accomplished after the poet, had passed the age of seventy.  Mr. Bryant visited Europe several times; and, in 1849, he continued his travels into Egypt and Syria.  Abroad, he was received with many marks of distinction; and he added much to his extensive knowledge by studying the literature of the countries he visited.

All his poems exhibit a peculiar love, and a careful study, of nature; and his language, both in prose and poetry, is always chaste, elegant, and correct.  His mind was well-balanced; and his personal character was one to be admired, loved, and imitated. ###

Stand here by my side and turn, I pray,
  On the lake below thy gentle eyes;
The clouds hang over it, heavy and gray,
  And dark and silent the water lies;
And out of that frozen mist the snow
In wavering flakes begins to flow;
                    Flake after flake
They sink in the dark and silent lake.

See how in a living swarm they come
 From the chambers beyond that misty veil;
Some hover in air awhile, and some
 Rush prone from the sky like summer hail. 
All, dropping swiftly, or settling slow,
Meet, and are still in the depths below;
                    Flake after flake
Dissolved in the dark and silent lake.

Here delicate snow stars, out of the cloud,
  Come floating downward in airy play,
Like spangles dropped from the glistening crowd
  That whiten by night the Milky Way;
There broader and burlier masses fall;
The sullen water buries them all,—­
                      Flake after flake,—­
All drowned in the dark and silent lake.

And some, as on tender wings they glide
  From their chilly birth cloud, dim and gray. 
Are joined in their fall, and, side by side,
  Come clinging along their unsteady way;
As friend with friend, or husband with wife,
Makes hand in hand the passage of life;
                       Each mated flake
Soon sinks in the dark and silent lake.

Lo! while we are gazing, in swifter haste
  Stream down the snows, till the air is white,
As, myriads by myriads madly chased,
  They fling themselves from their shadowy height. 
The fair, frail creatures of middle sky,
What speed they make, with their grave so nigh;
                 Flake after flake
To lie in the dark and silent lake.