 | Collected poems of Henry Thoreau |  |
141
TRAVELLING
How little curious is man
He has not searched his mystery a span
But dreams of mines of treasure
Which he neglects to measure.
He has not searched his mystery a span
But dreams of mines of treasure
Which he neglects to measure.
For three score years and ten
Walks to and fro amid his fellow men
O'er this small tract of continental land
And never uses a divining wand.
Walks to and fro amid his fellow men
O'er this small tract of continental land
And never uses a divining wand.
Our uninquiring corpses lie more low
Than our life's curiosity doth go
Our ambitious steps ne'er climb so high
As in their daily sport the sparrows fly
Than our life's curiosity doth go
Our ambitious steps ne'er climb so high
As in their daily sport the sparrows fly
And yonder cloud's borne farther in a day
Than our most vagrant steps may ever stray.
Surely, O Lord, he has not greatly erred,
Who has so little from his threshhold stirred.
Than our most vagrant steps may ever stray.
Surely, O Lord, he has not greatly erred,
Who has so little from his threshhold stirred.
He wanders through this low and shallow world
Scarcely his loftier thoughts and hopes unfurled,
Through this low walled world, where his huge sin
Has hardly room to rest and harbor in.
Scarcely his loftier thoughts and hopes unfurled,
Through this low walled world, where his huge sin
Has hardly room to rest and harbor in.
He wanders round until his end draws nigh
And then lays down his aged head to dye
And this is life, this is that famous strife.
And then lays down his aged head to dye
And this is life, this is that famous strife.
| Collected poems of Henry Thoreau | |