 | Collected poems of Henry Thoreau |  |
189
FOR THOUGH THE CAVES WERE RABITTED
For though the caves were rabitted,
And the well sweeps were slanted,
Each house seemed not inhabited
But haunted.
And the well sweeps were slanted,
Each house seemed not inhabited
But haunted.
The pensive traveller held his way,
Silent & melancholy,
For every man an ideot was,
And every house a folly.
Silent & melancholy,
For every man an ideot was,
And every house a folly.
| Collected poems of Henry Thoreau | |