"Thanatopsis" by William Cullen Bryant (read by Tom O'Bedlam)

Thanatopsis means thinking about death. Bryant wrote most of this poem when he was 17.

Some people consider this an American masterpiece. So, for those people who like this sort of thing, here it is.

From beginning to end it's a prime example of what Ruskin called "The Pathetic Fallacy" that in his opinion was the hallmark of the inferior poet.

In The Silence of the Lambs by Thomas Harris, Clarice tells Hannibal Lecter that the last lines were read to her dying father.

It has been said that if you read a poem and think - that's what I always thought, I totally agree with this poet - then it's not so great. Great work is that which takes you aback, make you realise there are things you never knew or felt before, that changes you forever.and becomes a part of you.

This poem has been called "hogwash" by critics, but that's a little too harsh.. It's true that there are no real revelations here: it's trite and wrong, but for a 17 year year old, it's pretty good.

Bryant had mistaken views about an ancient civilisation in America: here he says "All that tread the globe are but a handful to the tribes that slumber in its bosom". Estimates say dead outnumber the living by about ten to one, at one time it was thought ot be about thirty to one, but estimates are declining - so he was wrong about that too.

The painting is "Scene from Thanatopsis" 1850 by Asher B. Durand.

For something better on the same subject, completely contrary to Thanatopsis, this is from "Lavengro" by George Borrow, an autobiographical novel about his life with the Gypsies - in case you need a breath of fresh air after that hogwash:

I now wandered along the heath until I came to a place where, beside a thick furse, sat a man, his eyes fixed intently on the red ball of the setting sun.

Thats not you, Jasper?

Indeed, brother.

Ive not seen you for years.

How should you, brother?

What is your opinion of death, Mr. Petulengro, said I, as I sat down beside him.

"My opinion of death, brother, is when a man dies, he is cast into the earth, and his wife and child sorrow over him. If he has neither wife nor child, then his father and mother, I suppose; and if he is quite alone in the world, why, then, he is cast into the earth, and that is an end of the matter."

"And do you think that is the end of man?"

"There's an end of him, brother, more's the pity."

"Why do you say so?"

"Life is sweet."

"Do you think so?"

"Think so! - There's night and day, brother, both sweet things; sun, moon, and stars, brother, all sweet things; there's likewise a wind on the heath. Life is very sweet, brother; who would wish to die?"