Category: Thanatopsis

The poem, “Thanatopsis,” written by William Cullen Bryant, is a wonderful literary work that explores the often controversial questions of death. Within his well written lines, Bryant attempts to show the relationship between death’s eternal questions and the ongoing cycle of nature and life. Upon concluding the poem many readers are able to reaffirm their faith in an afterlife, while others are left aimlessly pondering this strange possibility.

Throughout the poem, Bryant creates images that connect death and sleep. In fact, once the reader gets halfway through the poem they discover that Bryant uses these words almost interchangeably. In the second stanza, he writes, “All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes that slumber in its bosom.”

Instead of referring to death, he uses the word “slumber.” These connections continue in a number of places. Other examples include lines 57 and 66. In line 57 he writes, “In their last sleep the dead reign there alone,” and in line 66, referring to death and burial, Bryant writes, “And make their bed with thee.” This connection between death and sleep creates an intriguing metaphor that adds depth and meaning to the poem.

By using this strange metaphor I believe Bryant wishes to suggest his faith in an afterlife. While examining the differences and similarities between death and sleep the reader is left with some very thought provoking questions. The answers to these questions reassure some readers while confusing others. Sleep is a time of rest.

It allows preparation for the next day or event, and by relating this definition to death Bryant gives new insight into one’s fate after earthly existence. When identifying sleep with death Bryant gives death many characteristics of slumber. People generally wake from sleep, and Bryant expands this occurrence to death. Death could simply be a time of rest that retires the bodies’ of earthly beings, and allows the soul to wake. Upon waking the soul is freed, and enters a new plane of existence.

This idea of a spiritual awakening is demonstrated in “Thanatopsis.” In lines 50 and 51 Bryant writes, “Take the wings of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness.”

To me, the wings in this statement symbolize a spiritual, angelic being, and the morning suggests a time of waking. After waking, the angelic being breaks through the confinement of the human grave, and continues its existence elsewhere. In my opinion, these lines indicate Bryant’s belief in an afterlife.

After reflective meditation in the wilderness, Bryant comes to terms with death. He knows death is a conclusion to the material world, but in this conclusion is a type of rebirth. Bryant believes death prepares the soul for its next journey.

‘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.

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.

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.

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.