To BRYANT, the Poet of Nature Walt Whitman
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "To BRYANT, the Poet of Nature" by Walt Whitman. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
Let Glory diadem the mighty dead—
Let monuments of brass and marble rise
To those who have upon our being shed
A golden halo, borrowed from the skies,
And given to time its most enduring prize;
For they but little less than angels were:
But not to thee, oh! nature's OWN, we should
(When from this clod the minstrel-soul aspires
And joins the glorious band of purer lyres)
Tall columns build: thy monument is here—
For ever fixed in its eternity—
A monument God-built! 'Tis seen around—
In mountains huge and many gliding streams—
Where'er the torrent lifts a melancholy sound,
Or modest flower in broad savannah gleams
Let monuments of brass and marble rise
To those who have upon our being shed
A golden halo, borrowed from the skies,
And given to time its most enduring prize;
For they but little less than angels were:
But not to thee, oh! nature's OWN, we should
(When from this clod the minstrel-soul aspires
And joins the glorious band of purer lyres)
Tall columns build: thy monument is here—
For ever fixed in its eternity—
A monument God-built! 'Tis seen around—
In mountains huge and many gliding streams—
Where'er the torrent lifts a melancholy sound,
Or modest flower in broad savannah gleams
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