 | Collected poems of Henry Thoreau |  |
107
THE THAW
I saw the civil sun drying earth's tears—
Her tears of joy that only faster flowed,
Her tears of joy that only faster flowed,
Fain would I stretch me by the hig[h]way side,
To thaw and trickle with the melting snow,
That mingled soul and body with the tide,
I too may through the pores of nature flow.
To thaw and trickle with the melting snow,
That mingled soul and body with the tide,
I too may through the pores of nature flow.
But I alas nor trickle can nor fume,
One jot to forward the great work of Time,
'Tis mine to hearken while these ply the loom,
So shall my silence with their music chime.
One jot to forward the great work of Time,
'Tis mine to hearken while these ply the loom,
So shall my silence with their music chime.
| Collected poems of Henry Thoreau | |