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 | Poems by Frederick Goddard Tuckerman |  |
203
[V. No shame dissuades his thought, no scorn despoils]
No shame dissuades his thought, no scorn despoilsOf beauty, who, the daily heaven beneath,
Gathers his bread by run-sides, rocks, and groves.
He drinks from rivers of a thousand soils;
And, where broad Nature blows, he takes his breath:
For so his thought stands like the things he loves,
In thunderous purple like Cascadnac peak,
Or glimpses faint with grass and cinquefoils.
The friend may listen with a sneering cheek,
Concede the matter good, and wish good luck;
Or plainly say, “Your brain is planet-struck!”—
And drop your hoarded thought as vague and vain,
Like bypast flowers, to redden again in rain,
Flung to the offal-heap with shard and shuck!
| Poems by Frederick Goddard Tuckerman | |