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Thanatopsis

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Voice Over • Audiobooks
12

Description

Thanatopsis by William Cullen Bryant

Vocal Characteristics

Language

English

Voice Age

Middle Aged (35-54)

Accents

North American, US General American (GenAm)

Transcript

Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
to him who, in the love of nature holds communion with her visible forms. She speaks of various language for his gayer hours. She has a voice of gladness and a smile and eloquence of beauty, and she Clyde's into his darker musings with a mild and healing sympathy that steals away their sharpness. There 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 Paul and breathless darkness and the narrow house make the 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 the all beholding son shall see no Maurin, all his course, nor yet in the cold ground where they pale form was laid with many tears, nor in the embrace of ocean shall exist. That image earth that nourished the shall claim that growth to be resolved to earth again and lost each human trace surrendering Upton individual being shalt thou go to mix forever with the elements to be a brother to the insensible rock into the sluggish Claude, which the Rude Swain turns with his share and treads upon the oak, shall send his roots abroad and pierced. I'm old yet not too fine. Internal resting place, Shelter Now retire alone Nor Kutz. 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 Hori Sears of ages past all in one mighty supporter the hills rock ribbed and ancient as a son The veils stretching and pensive quietness between the venerable woods rivers that move and majesty and the complaining brooks that make the meadows green and poured round all old oceans gray and melancholy waste are about 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 mourning, pierced the bark in wilderness or lose myself in the continuous woods where Rolls the Oregon And here's no sound Save his own dash ings Yet the dead are there and millions in those solitude Sze, since first the flight of years began have laid them down in their last sleep The dead rain there alone so shall tell rest. And what if thou withdraw in silence from the living and no friend Take note of the departure. All that breathed will share thy destiny. The *** will laugh when thou art gone The solemn brood of care plot on and each one is before will chase his favorite phantom. Yet all these shall leave their mirth and their employments and shall come and make their bed with e 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 made the speechless babe and the grey 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 which moves to that mysterious realm where each shall take his chamber in the silent halls of death. Thou go not like the Cory slave at night scores 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.