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University of Virginia Library

Collected poems of Henry Thoreau

Enlarged Edition

Thoreau, Henry David (1817-1862)

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WITHIN THE CIRCUIT OF THIS PLODDING LIFE

HIS STEADY SAILS HE NEVER FURLS

SOMETIMES I HEAR THE VEERY'S CLARION

UPON THE LOFTY ELM TREE SPRAYS

THOU DUSKY SPIRIT OF THE WOOD

THE RIVER SWELLETH MORE AND MORE

GREAT GOD, I ASK THEE FOR NO MEANER PELF

TO A STRAY FOWL

THE SLUGGISH SMOKE CURLS UP FROM SOME DEEP DELL

WHEN WINTER FRINGES EVERY BOUGH

NOT UNCONCERNED WACHUSETT REARS HIS HEAD

THE OLD MARLBOROUGH ROAD

IN TWO YEARS' TIME 'T HAD THUS

EACH SUMMER SOUND

THE NEEDLES OF THE PINE

IN THE EAST FAMES ARE WON

LOVE EQUALS SWIFT AND SLOW

MEN SAY THEY KNOW MANY THINGS

WHAT'S THE RAILROAD TO ME

IT IS NO DREAM OF MINE

LIGHT-WINGED SMOKE, ICARIAN BIRD

DIE AND BE BURIED WHO WILL

WHERE'ER THOU SAIL'ST WHO SAILED WITH ME

I AM BOUND, I AM BOUND, FOR A DISTANT SHORE

I SAILED UP A RIVER WITH A PLEASANT WIND

THE RESPECTABLE FOLKS

AH, 'TIS IN VAIN THE PEACEFUL DIN

BUT SINCE WE SAILED

ON PONKAWTASSET, SINCE, WE TOOK OUR WAY

AN EARLY UNCONVERTED SAINT

LOW IN THE EASTERN SKY

DONG, SOUNDS THE BRASS IN THE EAST

I MAKE YE AN OFFER

CONSCIENCE IS INSTINCT BRED IN THE HOUSE

SUCH WATER DO THE GODS DISTIL

THAT PHAETON OF OUR DAY

THOUGH ALL THE FATES SHOULD PROVE UNKIND

WITH FRONTIER STRENGTH YE STAND YOUR GROUND

HERE LIES AN HONEST MAN

THE WESTERN WIND CAME LUMBERING IN

RUMORS FROM AN AEOLIAN HARP

AWAY! AWAY! AWAY! AWAY

LOW-ANCHORED CLOUD

MAN'S LITTLE ACTS ARE GRAND

THE WAVES SLOWLY BEAT

WOOF OF THE SUN, ETHEREAL GAUZE

WHERE GLEAMING FIELDS OF HAZE

THIS IS MY CARNAC, WHOSE UNMEASURED DOME

TRUE KINDNESS IS A PURE DIVINE AFFINITY

LATELY, ALAS, I KNEW A GENTLE BOY

MY LOVE MUST BE AS FREE

THE GOOD HOW CAN WE TRUST

NATURE DOTH HAVE HER DAWN EACH DAY

LET SUCH PURE HATE STILL UNDERPROP

THE INWARD MORNING

MY BOOKS I'D FAIN CAST OFF, I CANNOT READ

THE POET'S DELAY

I AM THE AUTUMNAL SUN

I AM A PARCEL OF VAIN STRIVINGS TIED

ALL THINGS ARE CURRENT FOUND

WHO SLEEPS BY DAY AND WALKS BY NIGHT

WE SHOULD NOT MIND IF ON OUR EAR THERE FELL

THEN SPEND AN AGE IN WHETTING THY DESIRE

THEREFORE A TORRENT OF SADNESS DEEP

SUCH NEAR ASPECTS HAD WE

MY LIFE HAS BEEN THE POEM I WOULD HAVE WRIT

WE SEE THE PLANET FALL

I LOVE A CARELESS STREAMLET

THE CLIFFS & SPRINGS

TRUTH-GOODNESS-BEAUTY—THOSE CELESTIAL THRINS

IN THE BUSY STREETS, DOMAINS OF TRADE

I KNEW A MAN BY SIGHT

LAST NIGHT AS I LAY GAZING WITH SHUT EYES

'TWILL SOON APPEAR IF WE BUT LOOK

THE PEAL OF THE BELLS

THE “BOOK OF GEMS”

THE BREEZE'S INVITATION

EACH MORE MELODIOUS NOTE I HEAR

I WAS BORN UPON THY BANK RIVER

THE FISHER'S SON

I'M GUIDED IN THE DARKEST NIGHT

ON THE SUN COMING OUT IN THE AFTERNOON

THEY WHO PREPARE MY EVENING MEAL BELOW

MY GROUND IS HIGH

IF FROM YOUR PRICE YE WILL NOT SWERVE

FRIENDSHIP'S STEADFASTNESS

DEATH CANNOT COME TOO SOON

THE MOON NOW RISES TO HER ABSOLUTE RULE

MY FRIENDS, WHY SHOULD WE LIVE

I MARK THE SUMMER'S SWIFT DECLINE

METHINKS THAT BY A STRICT BEHAVIOR

I HAVE ROLLED NEAR SOME OTHER SPIRITS PATH

ON FIELDS OER WHICH THE REAPER'S HAND HAS PASS[E]D

TO A MARSH HAWK IN SPRING

YET LET US THANK THE PURBLIND RACE

IVE SEEN YE, SISTERS, ON THE MOUNTAIN-SIDE

YE DO COMMAND ME TO ALL VIRTUE EVER

ON SHOULDERS WHIRLED IN SOME ECCENTRIC ORBIT

BROTHER WHERE DOST THOU DWELL

EPITAPH ON PURSY

EP[ITAPH] ON THE WORLD

EPITAPH ON AN ENGRAVER

THE JUST MADE PERFECT

TELL ME YE WISE ONES IF YE CAN

AT MIDNIGHT'S HOUR I RAISED MY HEAD

I SEEK THE PRESENT TIME

LOVES INVALIDES ARE NOT THOSE OF COMMON WARS

OLD MEETING-HOUSE BELL

IS CONSIGNED TO THE NINE

AMONG THE WORST OF MEN THAT EVER LIVED

TH' AMBROSIA OF THE GODS 'S A WEED ON EARTH

I SAW A DELICATE FLOWER HAD GROWN UP 2 FEET HIGH

TO DAY I CLIMBED A HANDSOME ROUNDED HILL

I AM THE LITTLE IRISH BOY

I DO NOT FEAR MY THOUGHTS WILL DIE

CANS'T THOU LOVE WITH THY MIND

INDEED INDEED, I CANNOT TELL

THE VESSEL OF LOVE, THE VESSEL OF STATE

WHEN THE TOADS BEGIN TO RING

FOREVER IN MY DREAM & IN MY MORNING THOUGHT

STRANGE THAT SO MANY FICKLE GODS, AS FICKLE AS THE WEATHER

THE DEEDS OF KING AND MEANEST HEDGER

WAIT NOT TILL I INVITE THEE, BUT OBSERVE

GREATER IS THE DEPTH OF SADNESS

WHERE I HAVE BEEN

MAN MAN IS THE DEVIL

YOU MUST NOT ONLY AIM ARIGHT

ANY FOOL CAN MAKE A RULE

ALL THINGS DECAY

FOR THOUGH THE CAVES WERE RABITTED

MY FRIENDS, MY NOBLE FRIENDS, KNOW YE

NO EARNEST WORK THAT WILL EXPAND THE FRAME

GODFREY OF BOULOGNE

WHO EQUALLEST THE COWARD'S HASTE

IVE SEARCHED MY FACULTIES AROUND

UNTIL AT LENGTH THE NORTH WINDS BLOW

I WAS MADE ERECT AND LONE

WAIT NOT TILL SLAVES PRONOUNCE THE WORD

TO THE MOUNTAINS

UPON THE BANK AT EARLY DAWN

BETWEEN THE TRAVELLER AND THE SETTING SUN

MUST WE STILL EAT

I'M CONTENTED YOU SHOULD STAY

HE KNOWS NO CHANGE WHO KNOWS THE TRUE

THE FUNERAL BELL

SPEECH OF A SAXON EALDERMAN

WHAT SOUGHT TH[E]Y TH[U]S AFAR

I'M THANKFUL THAT MY LIFE DOTH NOT DECEIVE

THE MOON MOVES UP HER SMOOTH AND SHEENY PATH

PRAY TO WHAT EARTH DOES THIS SWEET COLD BELONG

WHEN THE OAKS ARE IN THE GRAY

THE FALL OF THE LEAF

A WINTER AND SPRING SCENE

WHY DO THE SEASONS CHANGE? AND WHY

FRIENDS! THAT PARTING TEAR RESERVE IT

IN TIMES OF YORE, 'TIS SAID, THE SWIMMING ALDER

BY HIS GOOD GENIUS PROMPTED OR THE POWER

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LIFE IS A SUMMER'S DAY

I'VE HEARD MY NEIGHBOR'S PUMP AT NIGHT

WHEN WITH PALE CHEEK AND SUNKEN EYE I SANG

I AROSE BEFORE LIGHT

I WILL OBEY THE STRICTEST LAW OF LOVE

WHO HEARS THE PARSON

WHEN IN SOME COVE I LIE

DELAY IN FRIENDSHIP

THE ROSA SANGUINEA

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177

I AM THE LITTLE IRISH BOY

I am the little Irish boy
That lives in the shanty
I am four years old today
And shall soon be one and twenty
I shall grow up
And be a great man
And shovel all day
As hard as I can.

Down in the deep cut
Where the men lived
Who made the Rail road.

for supper
I have some potatoe
And sometimes some bread
And then if it's cold
I go right to bed.

I lie on some straw
Under my fathers coat

My mother does not cry
And my father does not scold
For I am a little Irish Boy
And I'm four years old.

178

Every day I go to school
Along the Railroad
It was so cold it made me cry
The day that it snowed.

And if my feet ache
I do not mind the cold
For I am a little Irish boy
& I'm four years old.